


Sharp corners and curves

by meinposhbastard



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (gets resolved don't worry), (not a big part of the story), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, Eating Disorder, M/M, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, light ptsd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-01 23:50:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 65,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16294316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinposhbastard/pseuds/meinposhbastard
Summary: Keith is Earth’s Space Fleet Admiral. He’s the link and shield between the vast space and the blue planet. After the end of the war on planet Syca that left thousands of injured and just as many dead on both sides, things finally settle down and Keith returns to Earth to acclaims and world wide renown.But what he desires the most is not the fame and glory his won battles brought him, but the two people who fought side-by-side with him, two powerful beings, no less, leaders of planets and armies to populate Earth and Moon twice over.





	1. Volatile

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Lys for helping me kill my darlings and making this chapter airy and more to the point XD
> 
> The poem is from [Phi's](http://lostcap.tumblr.com/post/128519264508/words-claw-from-my-throat-sharp-corners-and/) wonderful collection of poems, which also gives this fic its title.
> 
> Commander is used in the Navy, according to the U.S. military ranks, but in this Shiro is distinguished from Lotor’s Generals; I disregarded the ranks gap between Commander and General, and made the Commander to stand on par with the General; besides, Lotor doesn’t care about Earth’s ranks. If Shiro wants to be known as a Commander, then so be it.

**—** **Part I —**

_Words claw from my throat. Sharp corners and curves, bloody and raw. They never quite make it past my lips._

_Tangle into one another, consumed._

_The wild calls the wolves, and darling, I am so hungry. More than words, I will devour._

_\- I am starved for something holy_ | [ P.D](http://lostcap.tumblr.com/)

 **—** **Part I —**

**1**

**_Volatile_ **

 

“Welcome aboard your home for the next Earth year,” Lotor says as soon as Keith steps out of the platform that meshes with the metal floor. “I don’t think you’ll be needing that blade around here.”

“Where I go, the blade goes.”

Lotor gives a curt nod. “As you wish. Follow me. You can make ample use of our facilities whenever you want to. You will have your own room, of course, and if you wish to you can participate in our diplomatic talks.”

Keith makes sure to be half a step behind Lotor out of respect for what he did during the Syca war rather than keeping up some established hierarchy.

“Aren’t those meant to stay behind closed doors?”

Lotor steals a glance at him. “We fought together for nearly a _decaphoeb_ , Space Fleet Admiral.”

“It’s Keith.”

The smirk melts the rigid line of his mouth into something almost playful.

“I know how you think,” Lotor continues, “which is why I am extending this offer should you want to. The talks are not mandatory.”

He shows Keith the room, a single bed pushed into the far wall, built-in wardrobe on the adjacent wall, a small table with a chair both built into the wall (and both retractable, he’s sure), and a door to his left where he supposes is the bathroom. Keith needs only a cursory glance to take all of it in, and when he turns his attention back to Lotor he finds himself meeting the emperor’s gaze.

The subsequent wave of hot and cold leaves him a bit unsteady on his feet, but he masks it away without trouble; he’s had almost a year to perfect his mask. Lotor’s gaze remains as shrewd and piercing as ever.

“If you don’t require anything else, I shall take my leave.”

“What about fighting?” Keith asks before Lotor manages to fully turn away.

“What about it?”

“Am I allowed?”

Lotors turns his head, an eyebrow cocked. “You have a training room fully equipped two levels below.”

Keith shakes his head even as Lotor speaks. “That’s not what I was asking.”

This time Lotor turns around to face him.

“You are here to oversee the safety of your kin as well as to send reports back to your leaders.”

Keith is losing his patience. “That,” — he pushes out — “is not what I meant.”

“Then do explain yourself more clearly, Admiral. I am not a mind reader.”

“You’re not stupid either,” Keith counters and Lotor’s glint of surprise satisfies Keith.

A moment passes.

“That would complicate things.”

“You being stupid, or — me fighting?”

The dry question pulls out a smile from Lotor, stretching the corners of his mouth like a carefully-plucked chord.

“Are you giving me lip again, Admiral?”

“I told you it’s _Keith.”_

Lotor’s smile unveils white, sharp teeth, the little fangs on display as if in warning.

“Not yet.” After which he leaves.

Keith feels like he’s just been through a toaster, his brain cells fried. He goes into his new room and crumbles on the floor, near his duffel bag.

“Get a grip of yourself, Kogane. Get a fucking grip or you’re not gonna make it out alive of this.”

After he regains his composure, and it takes him several long minutes of breath exercises, he gets up and takes a shower.

 

***

The door opens towards an en-suite, ridiculously large and sumptuous, obviously respecting the ship’s color code. He’s about to turn around and continue his search when Shiro exits a door further down the adjacent wall, clad only in a fluffy white towel.

It’s not the eight packs he’s sporting or the toned legs or the dip of his V into the material riding low on his hips or the broad chest that attracts his attention. No. It’s the place where metal meets skin, the sheer ingenious work and skill gone into balancing the arm with his other one. For a split second he has the irrational urge to touch that place, trace the line that looks perfect from this distance, but that he’s sure is anything but.

“Keith?”

He snaps out of it. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude. Emperor Lotor told me to meet you two in the conference room, but I can’t locate it. This ship is a nightmare of doors to useless rooms!”

Shiro’s chuckle washes over Keith’s skin like fresh water did when he returned from battle covered in grime and blood.

“If you give me a moment, I’ll show you where it is.”

Shiro’s hand goes to the overlapped edges of the towel, near his left hip, which pulls Keith’s gaze like a magnet. They rest there, though.

“A moment, Keith.” Shiro’s amusement flows into his words, the words caught on phantom notes of laughter.

“Right! I’ll wait outside!”

He fumbles his way out, something that is so far from how he is that he wants to just run into a wall and die there. But he does a few breathing exercises to calm himself. He doesn't remember having this kind of reaction to Emperor Lotor when he showed him to his room. Granted, the emperor was fully clad. But that doesn't mean that he isn’t... palatable the way he is. Not with that smarmy smile on his face and with the shrewd gaze that always makes Keith feel like he’s under a microscope.

It’s both unsettling and exhilarating.

Shiro takes only a minute or two to come out, the little smile still hanging on to the corner of his lips. Keith tries not to stare at him — at all, which might be going to the other extreme, but at least he can explain why he keeps his eyes trained straight ahead and not trail over to the person standing to his left every few seconds.

It was easier during the war, as much as it pains him to admit. War never counts for happy memories — unless he thinks about those few shared intimate moments to which he was witness.

"There are four levels to this ship," Shiro begins, voice an island of vibrant sounds. "Excluding the hangar where all the other ships are."

Shiro places his hand on a black square which comes alive in a deep fucsia. They get into the elevator.

"This is the third floor — the quarters, if you want to call them that, although many rooms here are used as repositories of some sort. Then the second floor, reserved to the deck or commanding room and several other rooms divided into conference, kitchen, armory and others I can't remember." He chuckles. "The first floor is reserved entirely to training rooms of various dimensions and levels of difficulty."

"What about the fourth floor?"

Shiro smiles. "Mm, I'm not sure. I've never been there."

"Didn't Emperor Lotor tell you?"

Shiro throws him a confused look. "It's Lotor. Why do you add his title? We've been over this a year and a half ago."

A forced smile gathers on Keith's lips, recalling his last talk with the emperor. "Not when he keeps adding my title."

A cocked eyebrow. "What happened between you two?"

"I'm not sure. The conversation— got out of hand before I knew it."

A soft sigh. "Few things don't get out of hand with him."

Keith frowns lightly, but Shiro shakes his head.

"Don't ask. Please."

And Keith dutifully doesn't.

"I haven't seen my team. Are they here?"

"No. They're on our second ship, the Gur'nash or Gladiator as they call it. It's bigger than this one and — heavily armed."

"I didn't think you'd take these extreme measures to ensure their safety."

Shiro's eyes warm up and Keith breaks the eye contact. The easy conversation relaxed him to the point of forgetting himself. But that's just Shiro's special ability which the man himself is not aware of.

"The space is vast and we don't know who might come in our way."

"Have you contacted them since we left Earth?"

"No. Lotor suggested that you should be the one to do that."

Keith doesn't say anything else, falling into the well of swarming thoughts that Shiro's words procured.

When they step out on the second floor, life comes like a tidal wave over him, a contrast to the almost empty third one. There are sentinels patrolling, Galra officers and staff mingling, all of whom salute Shiro when he passes by. Keith shouldn't be impressed by this. He receives the same treatment (only with less hands to the chest and more nods of acknowledgement) on Earth.

The room Shiro gestures him to enter is not the conference room.

"Lotor," Shiro gets past Keith and greets Lotor with a hand on his shoulder. "Keith was looking for you. And you were supposed to be in the conference room."

_Not that you went there first to check._

A corner of Lotor's lips lifts at the sight of Shiro, but his gaze doesn't trail over to Keith, who stands in the middle of the room, watching the scene unfold. Apart from that hand — that's still there — on Lotor's shoulder, they don't show any other sign of affection. Curious.

"I have been informed," Lotor begins, sarcasm dripping from his words, "that My'chraz's leader has been detained with some urgent matter or other. His right hand or second-in-command or just plain Minion Who Does His Dirty Job informed me that, unfortunately, his commander could not make it to our meeting."

A sound of profound insult and outrage escapes his mouth.

"For all we know, that dweeb they call Protector, is — how do you call it?" — and now his gaze does slide to Keith, a challenge in his eyes — "balls deep into his Muralian metamorphic lover and couldn't care less about diplomatic talks."

Keith manages to remain perfectly calm outwardly. By the skin of his teeth.

"Mm," Lotor murmurs, returning to Shiro, hand covering the one on his shoulder. "Though I can't really fault him for choosing pleasure over politics. Given the choice…"

It's right there on Keith's tongue: the need to ask _what_ , _what would you do,_ but Lotor leaves it at that. And Shiro's stance looks more rigid than it was a moment before from where Keith is standing.

"I'll go check on my team," Keith finds himself saying and they both look at him. "If any of you shows me the way, that is."

"You should do that," Shiro tells Lotor. "I'll take care of things here."

"Why? Did you two have a sparring match of words, too?" Lotor asks, the words feeling as if they're too big in his mouth.

"So that's what happened between you two."

Lotor grins. "Come, Admiral—"

"It's Keith," he grumbles.

"—the conference room perfect for you is this way."

Lotor passes by Keith in his usual confident strut and Keith turns to look at Shiro.

"See what I meant?"

Shiro just shakes his head in quiet amusement.

The perfect conference room for Keith turns out to be a broom closet.

No. A little bigger than that. But not by much. A lounge room of some sorts, refurbished with twin two-person sofas colored in a pleasant shade of lilac flanking the door on both sides and a fake window showing the deep space on the wall opposite to the door. The corners of the room hold four lamps that effuse warm light into the room. Really, the cubicle is perfect for a nap, not conducting important business.

Emperor Lotor’s pleased smirk miffs Keith when he catches it. Surely Keith didn’t school his features as thoroughly as he thought he did. But the emperor leaves without saying a word before Keith can ask what has him so happy. He has no idea what his problem is (if there is one) or what mind game he’s playing at.

As it is, he does his best to not sit as comfortably as those seats invite him to and wait for the holo-call to connect, a small rectangular device that opens up in the middle of the room to let the projection be seen from both sides.

"Hey, man. How've you been?"

Keith blinks. Then blinks again and leans forward.

"Hunk?" The name falls cracked in a disbelieving heap. "You're on Team Alpha?"

Hunk chuckles, scrubbing his hands together. "Team Alpha? That's what we're called? I thought we were Team Voltron Junior."

Involuntarily, Keith lets out a chuckle of his own. "Then you might as well be called Team Yellow Lion, respecting your division’s name."

"Nah, it doesn't have the same ring as Voltron Jr."

"That one sounds childish."

Hunk shrugs. "Pidge suggested it, so I thought everyone went along with it since no one argued against."

"Well, Admiral Sanda called you that, so."

Hunk nods. "So, why did you call?"

"To check up on you, of course. I'll need to send a first report back to the base once we're done here."

"Oh, right. We're doing the same, only we send reports to our base team."

"Well, I'm responsible for your safety, so I need to alert the home army in case of anything."

"Not that they'd be able to reach us in time to help should anything happen."

Hunk chuckles nervously and Keith smiles.

"It's going to be okay, Hunk." He finds that the words topple off his tongue with an unusual ease. "You're on Emperor Lotor's biggest and strongest ship, surrounded by both sentinels and Galra that will protect you at the cost of their lives. General Zethrid and General Narti are there to make sure you remain unharmed. You're safe."

The jitters get more pronounced. "Yeah, well, I'd like it if it didn't come to that. You know, the lying down one's life for another — I've had enough of that."

The atmosphere sours fast and Keith's reminded of the war, of the treacheries, the deserters, the ambushes. Far off planet, textbook war. He thought he'd have to think differently, fight differently, given that they were on an alien planet, but it turned out that war was the same everywhere. He grew up learning about it on his planet, the one he took part in was just him putting the theory into practice.

"I can't promise you it won't come to that," Keith says, and he wishes he'd shut up already. "But the space is vast and we don't know—"

"Yeah, I know, I know," Hunk interrupts, hands scrubbing up and down on his thighs. "I'd like to talk about something else, if you don't mind."

Keith welcomes the abrupt change in the subject with open arms. "Sure. How are you getting along with the team?"

"Oh, splendidly." The big smile looks like it wants more room to spread on Hunk's face. "We're all kinda nervous being on such a big ship and among Galra, but each one finds himself or herself an occupation of some kind. I took a break from monitoring the capsules holding the eight thousand something species of flora, otherwise you'd have talked with somebody else who was near the computer."

Keith frowns. "Can't you wear a watch or bracelet that pops up a hologram? I'd feel better if I knew you'd be on-call at all times instead of meeting a new face every time I call."

"Oh." Hunk's face goes slack for a couple of seconds. "That's a brilliant idea! Why didn't I think about that? I'll get to it right away! Oh, but wait. You don't have a bracelet like that. How am I gonna contact you once I'm done?"

"Hm, I don't think they have something like that here. Or at least I haven't seen. Tell you what, I'll check in with Shiro. In the meantime you get down to make those bracelets. Make two, in case I don't find anything by the next time I call."

"How much until then?"

Keith pulled up a clock near the hologram. It showed 2200 Earth time.

"In ten hours. That will be 0800 on Earth."

"Gotcha. That should give me enough time to get something done."

"Hey, Hunk." Keith sobers up from the easy conversation. "Don't forget to sleep, too. Set a timer to remind you when you need to sleep. Get in at least six hours, okay?"

"Same goes for you," Hunk says, a frown marring his brow. Keith is taken aback. "You haven't been sleeping well since we got back to Earth, and don't deny it because it shows on your face. Listen to your advice. I have no trouble sleeping."

Keith opens his mouth to contradict or affirm or say something, but his shoulders slump in defeat and he nods. With a smile, Hunk nods, too, and disconnects.

Left in the warm light, his eyes wander to the fake window and he finds himself leaning back into the plush backrest. He closes his eyes for a second, the pleasant feeling left after their conversation relaxing his limbs and he thinks he feels perfect the way he is right now until the sharp blow sends him sprawling on the floor and he has the blade in his hand before he fully opens his eyes.

It was but an instant that he had his eyes closed — or so, he thinks because he fights to blink away the sleep that stubbornly clings to him, trying to distinguish between reality and dream, when he realizes that the warm light is blinking in and out in a warning red and he's out of the door before he knows it, mind going into battle mode at once.

"What's happening?" he asks as soon as he's on deck.

Shiro's the one that turns towards him, Lotor busy imparting orders left and right.

"We've been hit."

"Yeah, I felt that. By whom? What's the status? Hunk’s ship?"

"Gladiator's fine. They had the shields up in time. We've experienced some malfunctioning on our shield generator, which is why you've felt that blast so violently."

He wants to sigh in relief at the notion that Hunk is safe and protected. He also itches to go back and call him to be double sure that he's okay, but he probably isn't around the computer so he stays put and lets the rush of relief wash his senses before Lotor's voice filters through.

"Redirect the left and right cannons to the three big Harvokaar."

"Left and right cannons loaded and ready to fire, sir," a young Galra calls from somewhere on the floor below.

"Fire."

For a second or two the wall-screen fills with a neon purple light, the seconds that follow engulfed in a tense silence before the explosions cover the ships one by one like blooming yellow-orange flowers. The smaller ships fall back.

"Warp, now." Lotor calls.

"Entering warp stage in 3, 2, 1."

If it weren't for Shiro grabbing Keith's arm and pulling him into his side, he'd have become one with the wall by now. As it is, Shiro's right arm is securely anchored to the railing, while Keith’s left to cling to him like a kid — if a kid had a blade that’s currently plastered to Shiro's front.

"You won't be needing that, Admiral," Lotor says, as cool as a winter breeze, pointing to his blade after they exit the hyperspace.

Reluctantly, he steps back from Shiro's protective embrace, a bit dizzy.

“Yeah, well, you can’t expect me to saunter in like I’m strolling through a park when we were clearly under attack,” he says even as a female Galra presents herself before Lotor. “Who were those people?”

"Are you okay?" Shiro asks, flesh arm pressed to Keith’s bicep.

"Yeah, I'm fine.” But he’s glaring at the Emperor, not going to be the one who lets matters be.

“Tell that to Commander Sendak and have him inform Commander Throk, too.” The only thing Keith catches before the Galra salutes and hurries below the deck.

“Why were we attacked?” Keith insists.

“Not your concern, Admiral.” He passes him by and starts climbing down the same stairs the Galra went on.

Keith's blade thrusts into the wall inches from Lotor's face, bringing the Emperor to a stop and the whole deck to a dead silence, even as Keith stomps towards him, the incarnation of fury itself.

"I hate you!" Keith hisses as he retrieves the blade and someone sighs behind him.

The smirk almost makes Keith go off once again, but he reigns himself in, electing to storm out of the room without a backwards glance. The other Galra resume their work, acting as if nothing happened.

"Why are you antagonizing him so much?” Shiro asks, coming to stand at the edge of the deck, looking down at Lotor from above crossed arms. “You two worked so well together fifteen _phoebs_ ago. Both as far as strategy goes and in fights, you’re incredibly compatible."

"That and this are two entirely different matters. His desire for us did not lessen with time and distance,” — he stops before Shiro — “if nothing else it intensified, otherwise he wouldn't be here."

"You know that and you still act like this?"

Lotor studies Shiro’s face before meeting his gaze once again. "It's because I know about his feelings for us that I'm doing this."

Shiro sighs, a headache starting at the back of his head. "You're gonna give me more white hair."

Lotor chuckles, a finger following down the bone of Shiro’s jaw. "It makes you look more trustworthy, so it's okay."

"You know, this game you're playing has a lot of common points with the 'good cop, bad cop' on Earth."

"It does have a nice ring to it, although I don't know what 'cop' means."

"It's jargon for police officer. They team up to make the criminal confess to the one that seems more empathetic and ready to garner to the criminal's needs. Which you seem to have entrusted me with, though Keith is no criminal."

"Oh, but he is,” he murmurs, leaning closer. “Or, more accurately, he will be.”

Shiro frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You could be the bad cop, too, if you want."

The fact that Lotor changed the subject without even bothering to make it subtle, has Shiro narrowing his gaze. Still, he lets it slide for now, curious to see what that brilliant mind of his has in store for Keith. He’ll be there to soften and mend things, if it comes to it, so for now he lets them both scratch and prod at each other until they’re satisfied.

"That wouldn't be in my character,” he says. “Besides I told you that I don't want to be a part of this game of yours. I care about Keith a lot, and I don't like it when he looks so angry and hurt."

Lotor's face shifts into something less playful. "Very well, you use your strategy and I'll use mine. Let's see who's the first one to crack the enigma that's Keith Kogane."

“This is not a competition, Lotor,” Shiro says to Lotor’s retreating back. “And Keith’s not a puzzle you need to solve.” But Lotor just waves his hand as he disappears behind the closed doors. “He’s human like me and he’s hurting.”

But there’s no one to hear him, so he sighs and puts back his inner armor, going after his lover. A Lotor on the loose is a Lotor with a fuse, and it won’t be his royal hide that’s going to explode sooner or later.


	2. Mission

**2**

**_Mission_ **

Over the next few space days, Keith gets a bracelet from Hunk and from there on out they're almost always in one conversation or another. It feels good to have a friendly face and voice on-call. Not that Shiro isn't always inquiring about his well-being. Between him and Lotor, he's the one Keith feels that he could talk to about anything and he wouldn't judge Keith one bit. But they've still got ways to go before Keith manages to do that with him. He still associates Commander Shirogane with Emperor Lotor, so that might make the possibility of an open communication at best awkward.

"Yesterday," Hunk is saying, Keith lying on his own bed, "three of the capsules containing the _Gloriosa Superba_ got destabilized and we had to work for almost 12 hours to restore them. At this rate, we'll need to change the entire equipment if we're to keep the plants alive until we reach the planet."

"You think they won't make it for another five months?"

A grimace passes over Hunk's face for a moment, then it changes into a smile as he greets a passer-by. The worried expression returns when he looks at Keith.

"I'm doing everything I can to repair the malfunctions, but every few hours something or other stops functioning. We were too preposterous in thinking that our advanced equipment could withstand such a long voyage and maintain the optimal oxygen and light parameters for these plants to not perish."

“Hunk.”

"I'm not a genius! I can't make everything work! What if a generator explodes?”

“Hunk.”

“What if my repairs backfire and the plant collection goes up in flames? What then?"

"Hunk! Listen to me. Everything's gonna be fine. Contrary to what you think about yourself, you _are_ a genius, and the best kind. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise, okay?”

“Yeah, but—“

“You're not alone in this,” he presses on. “You have a team with you there. Rely on them, help each other out. If things are getting worse, ask for the Generals' help. They're not there just to keep you safe. I'm sure they can give you a hand in finding tools that could help you keep the plants alive."

Hunk gets close to the screen, a hand covering one side of his mouth as if he's about to whisper a secret.

"Have you seen the generals?" The hiss is strained and panicky. "They're huge and scary. I've never seen either one smile. Do you know how much I've tried to avoid direct contact with them? And now you ask me to do the exact opposite? They're gonna skin me alive!"

"Hunk!" Keith has to raise his voice a little; it's hard for him to be calm in the face of Hunk's blabbering. "You're making things seem worse than they are. General Zethrid and Narti will not harm any of you. They have direct orders to protect you. And even without those orders, they have absolutely no reason to harm you, understand? I'll talk to Commander Shiro and Emperor Lotor and see that they tell the generals to bring you useful tools."

"No! You're gonna make matters worse!" Hunk whisper-stages.

"No, I'm not." He's losing his patience; fast.

"Did you forget the war? The Galra among the Byn'haw we were fighting against? The spies within Emperor Lotor's ranks that almost staged a coup in the middle of the battle?"

All the air is punched out of Keith's lungs at the words. He has no argument to counter. The war was bloody and full of treachery and backhanded strategies. In the darkest hours, when his injuries burned beneath the wrappings he doubted Lotor's resolve and his loyalty to the cause they were fighting for. But the emperor never once faltered, even when the situation was dire and a moment's hesitation could have seen to the end of the war in favor of the wrong side.

"Still."

He gathers all the reasons why he chose to be here and now, remembering all the moments passed in the War Room working on strategies and plans of attack and how best to minimize the loss of soldiers on their side.

"These Galra are not our enemies. They wouldn't go against us, not with an accord between the two powers, not with everything that's at stake here. Please, Hunk, have a bit of faith in them. I don't say that you should trust them implicitly, but at least try to work with them. I'm here to oversee your protection, too. If you don't trust them, then trust me when I tell you that you have nothing to fear from them."

Hunk deflates like a balloon, looking sideways.

"Okay, I'll try. But I'm not promising anything."

"Then think about the flora. You need to do everything within your power to ensure it reaches Eskia alive."

Hunk nods. "Fine. I'll do that."

"Good. Thank you."

Sighing in relief after disconnecting, he heads towards the mess hall. Not many Galra are there, since most of them already ate, so he goes to the indented wall and selects a couple of images that look close to a combination of alien and Earth food. The same kind that he ate while on planet Syca.

Sitting to the side of the rectangular room and facing the fake window, he starts picking at his food. It tastes bland on his tongue, but not because it doesn't have any flavor. His brain knows that the food is delicious, but his taste buds don't seem to cooperate. There's just too much war replaying at the back of his mind at the sight of the colors on his plate. The beige of the Syca people; the blue-gray of the Byn’haw.

He stands up once he's had enough, not that his closed stomach got much food into it, but the meal has gone cold and he didn't taste any of it, so what's the point?

"Sit, Admiral," Emperor Lotor says, taking a place in front of Keith.

His tray holds just two containers, one that has a creamy sauce of a deep red color and the other one, bigger, has tentacles. Earth brown and curled inwards, steam lifting lazily from them. They don't look bad, but they don't look inviting either.

Keith eyes his tray, then Lotor, and an acerbic answer is poised on his tongue, something along the lines of 'I already finished my meal', but he does as he's told because if Lotor took time out of his busy schedule to come keep Keith company, then this means that he has something important to say to him.

"Eat," he instructs, taking a tentacle and dipping it in the red sauce.

Watching Lotor bite the red tentacle freezes Keith's brain into a stiff image. That of the emperor's piercing gaze locked onto his while the lips keep the tentacle there until the teeth cut through the tender meat.

"Admiral."

"Meal's gone cold."

"Reheat it or take another one."

Keith shakes his head, even as his eyes pass over Lotor's tray. "I'm not hungry anymore."

His gaze narrows. "I haven't seen you eating since you boarded my ship."

"But I did."

"What?" He takes another tentacle; Keith's eyes trace every movement like it's the last sight he'll ever see. "Can you describe the last meal you had?"

Keith lifts an eyebrow. "Same as this one."

"Which you left unconsumed, too. And the meal before that."

He frowns. "Where are you trying to get with this?"

"The point I'm trying to make, Admiral, is that you're malnourished. And I won't have that on my ship."

Something ticks the wrong way in Keith. "Malnourished? I've ways until I reach that point, and I'm not that stupid to starve myself. I don't even have a reason to. I'm eating."

Lotor finishes the tentacle and does something that has Keith swallow: he licks his fingers of the oil and sauce. Now it's a fight against the onslaught of desire that floods his system, a struggle to subdue the wave that pushes against the control over his own body.

"You're picking at your food," Lotor counters, dipping another tentacle.

"I'm not." The stubbornness doesn't quite reach his words, and they fall weak and dull.

Lotor regards him for a few moments, the full attention making Keith's muscles go tense and ready to make him bolt if it's necessary, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Lotor’s hand if his life depended on it.

"Fine. Then let's go about this another way." He lifts the tentacle from the sauce and gives it to him. "Eat this."

"Why should I? I told you I'm not hungry."

A faint line dips between Lotor's eyebrows. "Admiral, don't make me feed you. Eat this and then tell me how it is."

With the threat that Lotor might actually honor his words, Keith gingerly takes the tentacle from between his fingers and bites into it. The flesh is tender the way he imagined it to be, a thin crust here and there, the oily sensation coupled with spices and something that tastes a bit like chilly and tomato, but at the same time alien. Not bad. At all. It makes his mouth pool with saliva and his stomach actually feign a bit of interest in the food. He swallows after he chews on it. It wasn't quite an explosion of flavors, but rather a swift dance of two that warmed up his taste buds. The faint spicy sensation left behind pleases him.

Lotor's smile brings him back to the present.

"It’s good."

"Good. You can finish the rest."

"No, I won't. It's your meal."

Lotor lifts an eyebrow. "There's plenty more from where this one came from. If I want another one, I can get it just as easily."

"Still, I'm not hungry."

He narrows his gaze. "Admiral, eat."

Keith eyes the bowl with the tentacles. "No," he whispers.

"What did you say?"

Keith meets Lotor's shrouded gaze. He can't read it. Or maybe Lotor is deliberately keeping his expressions at bay. Fine, Keith can play this game, too.

He leans forward. "How about you stop calling me by my title in exchange for eating your meal?"

Lotor regards him for a while, eyes passing lazily over every inch of his face. If he keeps that up, Keith's not sure he will be able to withstand it for long.

"Very well."

Keith smirks and takes a tentacle, dips it in sauce and lifts it to his mouth, but stops there. It's not bad; the last one tasted good, but he's not sure he'll be able to eat all of it after so many months living off of nibbles. But he can't back away from this, not when Lotor's watchful eyes are on him like a hawk's on its prey, so he eats that one and the next and the next.

As he feared, he doesn't finish everything. There's still a good portion left behind, but Keith would rather welcome whatever Lotor has in mind for his retaliation than eat another tentacle. As it is, he feels like he's going to explode any minute if he keeps smelling the waft of food.

"This is as much as I can eat right now."

Lotor smirks. "Well done, Kogane," he praises, standing up from the table.

"You said you wouldn't—"

"Call you by your title, and I stand true by my word." Rounding the table, he comes near Keith and leans down until Keith can feel his breath stirring the fine hairs on his neck. "But you didn't specify what I should call you."

With that, he takes his leave and Keith wants to punch Lotor's tray through the wall.

After drinking a concoction to help him digest all that he has eaten and ensure that he won't throw up everything, he returns to the control room where Shiro and Lotor share the deck.

Shiro's flesh hand is flexing at his side, his expression drawn in like he'd like to clear his face of any trace of emotions, but what he's hearing is too nasty to let him do that. Lotor's stance, on the other hand, looks at ease, although his expression is more guarded and serious than usual. When Keith approaches them, his feet light and silent, he catches some of the conversation that they're having.

"They're not going to give it up," Lotor is saying. "Lum'ar made it clear."

"Then we have to get down there and take it from her," Shiro counters, a quiet impatience burning behind his words. “We made a deal.”

"No, the relations with her are strenuous as it is.”

“Not for lack of wanting from our part,” Shiro says, and if his frown wasn’t so deep, Keith might have laughed at the sarcasm.

“An operation like that,” Lotor continues, “will be seen as a direct attack on her authority and we have Galra scientists under her command to show good faith. This cannot end in bloodshed or a diplomatic disaster. We’ve come too far in our quest to unite the shredded Empire after my father’s rule."

"But we need that. You know we cannot leave this quadrant without it. Let me go there," Shiro presses on. "Just because she knows you want to avoid a political scandal doesn’t give her the right to act like a spoiled Queen. I can infiltrate her stronghold and get out in under two hours. We have the blueprints, so it won't be difficult."

"No." Lotor's hand catches Shiro's flesh biceps. "If she discovers you, you’ll be executed, peace treaty or not. I won't risk your life over something that we can obtain through other means."

"I'll go," Keith butts in, and they both turn towards him with equal surprise, as if they didn't even realize he was there.

Lotor is the first to school his features. "Out of the question."

"What! Why?"

He turns his back to Keith. "This is something that does not concern you."

"The heck are you talking about? So you mean that I have full access to your diplomatic talks, but I'm not allowed to take action when it's required?"

"Exactly," Lotor says and it sounds so vindictive and arrogant that Keith's hands clench over imaginary swords.

"Keith," Shiro says, stepping towards him and disrupting his death glare at the emperor's back. "We value your opinions, but you are here to oversee the well-being of your team of scientists, not get involved in matters pertaining to the Galra Empire."

“I’m an asset," Keith begins, anger a dangerous beat in the background of his words. "Your asset right now. I’m the best you’ve got. Now with Kolivan on Earth and the rest of the Blade scattered across the universe to fight off rebels, you have no choice but to use me.”

“You will be staying on board of this ship." Lotor's voice is quiet, an impervious tsunami waiting to crash into Keith. "That is an order.”

Keith blinks and glances at Lotor who is resolutely ignoring him. Only Shiro’s completely blank face and guarded eyes are focused on him. He wants to protest; feels it boiling up into his throat.

He nods, once, and then makes to leave.

“You will refrain from leaving this ship without my or Shiro’s expressed command, is that understood?” Lotor asks as if he’s just another unimportant task that he needs to attend to.

His blood seizes in his veins. He forces his muscles to relax, his hands to unclench.

“Yes, _sir!_ ”

It costs more than he wants to admit to give a verbal assent to that. An assent that can be used against him.

He realizes, as he makes left instead of right, that he hates being called a liar.

The archive room is situated on the same level, he learns after a few inquiries to the Galra that look like they hold a high enough position to know of such a place on the ship. Deciphering the alien symbols is something he had to learn before even going on his first space mission as a simple cadet, yet it still takes a bit of time to work his way around. Once he gets into the database, the blueprints are easy to find since they're under the Lum'ar name (apparently, that's the name of the planet, too), as well as what that 'it' of which they were talking about is.

Memorizing the layout in under a minute, he gets out just as silently as he entered and heads to his room to gear up. Stealing a sub-ship from the thousands aligned against the walls proves to be more difficult than he thought it would be. He has no clearance and there are a lot of soldiers milling about, some of them engineers working on some sub-ships, others just walking around and talking. But it's not impossible.

Not when they're doing flight tests.

He steals along the wall, behind the sub-ships and gets into one. He waits for the right moment when the hangar doors open to start the ship and get up into the air. He expects the surprise and then the alarm at having an unauthorized ship take flight, but he’s already through the doors and out into the open space to worry about word reaching the emperor and Shiro.

There's a job that needs to be done and that's all that matters.

"Kogane," Lotor's displeased face appears in a hologram on the ship's windshield, minutes after separating himself from the mothership. "You gave me your word that you wouldn't leave the ship."

"It’s not in my nature to stand by and do nothing about this. If it weren’t me, then be sure that it would’ve been Shiro here in my place."

Lotor pauses, visibly taken aback.

“You don’t know him,” he counters, a figment of his royal blood getting through his composed mask and something else that might come close to jealousy if the hologram serves the image right.

“I’ve had enough time to study both of you. I know how you two think, just as you know how I think, so this shouldn’t come as a surprise to you.”

"I demand you return,” he says, electing to ignore that last comment.

"You're not my commander."

“Which is why this has nothing to do with you."

Keith exhales. "It doesn't, but at the same time it does. I won't turn around. If you want to protect Shiro, then use me for this kind of mission. I'm no diplomat, I work best in the shadows. This is perfect for me, so I apologize in advance for my behavior, but I can't stand idly by when I know I'm able to successfully complete this mission. Besides, I have no patience nor understanding for arrogant commanders such as Lum’ar."

But they both know that that last line targets more than the mentioned name.

"Admiral, this is not about what you can or can't do."

A sharp smile curves Keith's lips. "Today we're both liars, _Emperor_ Lotor."

It's a bit of satisfaction that trickles down Keith's spine at Lotor’s expression, because it looks too much like he regrets what he said. Well, they had an agreement and he did not respect it. Keith disconnects the call.

Lum'ar's atmosphere is made up of gases, brownish and dense. The computer alerts him of various dangerous elements in it so he pulls up his mask as a preventive measure. The levels go down to being non-threatening to his life once he touches ground, but he still keeps the mask on. It's a deserted place that he lands on, full of rocky hills and pillars and little to no vegetation. He lands several miles away from the stronghold to keep his pod from being detected.

Using the thrusters on his back, he bridges those miles in less than ten minutes. He'll have to be quick about this, in and out in as short a time as possible. It’s not beyond Lotor to send a party to retrieve him, so it’s better if he gets this done before they arrive. Not that he’s not using this as a race against time to stimulate his competitive streak.

The stronghold sits imperious at the edge of the slithering hill like the back of a tentacle towards a sheer drop into a huge canyon covered by a blanket of green. Rock protuberances shelter the fortress at the back, from which water pours in massive cascades, preventing attacks or infiltration from the rock face.

Keith takes a deep breath before sliding down the backbone of what looks like a creature ten times bigger than Earth's largest dinosaur, deeply encrusted with earth and lichens and other webs of vegetation, most of which do not look entirely inanimate. The mask filters in the strong wind that threatens to blow him away, but before he completely loses his foothold, he releases the wingsuit, an invention that he brought with him from Earth. He won't always be able to rely on his back thrusters.

Floating over the high walls under the cover of the night and folding into a roll to soften the landing, he takes shelter behind a hybrid tree of phosphorescent red and black glue oozing slowly from its bark. He hopes it’s not animated enough to shred him into pieces.

The guards are lax tonight, and few. Perfect for his mission.

Climbing on the outer wall of the garden, he runs towards the open window on the second floor, jumping to get inside. His night-vision goggles show an inhabited bedroom, something that you'd show your guests into. No guards on this floor, so he relaxes a notch, mentally going over the blueprints and locating the room on the topmost level of this fortress.

Getting there is stupidly easy, which keeps him tense for something to go wrong and have the whole Lum'ar armada on his tail, but he has the door in sight and the silence persists around him.

Well, not really.

There are sounds. Strange ones.

Keith pauses halfway on the hallway, ears intent on the muffled sounds. A sudden shout makes him jump out of his skin and almost topple a small-scale statue. Death scare notwithstanding, he creeps closer to a door on the right that's left ajar and from which light penetrates the darkness of the hallway. Being extra light on his feet and praying that the door does not come from the same batch of movie doors that screech like tormented souls at the slightest push, he carefully opens it several inches.

He wishes his curiosity would've died a sudden and painful death as his eyes take in a most horrendous scene.

A yellow-cream creature that looks like a female, if she had arms and legs and not tentacles and angular-looking branches instead of legs, tied to an oval-shaped bed by several black chords that seemed to send electricity every now and then and make her— emit particularly lascivious sounds and gurgled syllables that might be words in the planet's native language.

To one side, back turned to the door, a willowy creature in a fluctuating blue and gold robe stands with a black book between pale green gassy shape of hands, chanting something like it's a sermon of some kind. Or an exorcism. The head looks a lot like some fishmen on other planets he visited, only this one has a more — predatory air about it than the ones he saw. And it’s less burgeoning and angular than most fishmen heads.

The creature has control over the electric shots the one on the bed is receiving, he realizes after a while.

Before he retreats to the folds of the darkness and swear to never speak of what he saw ever again, an idea occurs to him. Taking a small, black cube from his pouch he pushes his hand into the crack between the door and the door frame (almost at floor level) and taps the surface once. Several seconds into this and the creature on the bed starts shouting incomprehensible words just as his bracelet emits a _pi-pi-pi_ sound. He almost drops the cube during all of this and he somehow manages to accept the call while trying to retreat and hide the cube into his pouch.

Hunk's face appears.

"Hey, ma—" He freezes, words dying in his throat, no doubt hearing the shouts and thuds and the background chant that sounds a lot like a convoy of bees on the cusp of attacking. "What's that sound? Are you under attack?"

Keith wants to die right there and then, but instead he makes cut gestures, the blue glow of the hologram no doubt making him appear more frantic than he is. Who's he kidding? He's verging on a panic attack.

"Are you okay? You don't look well? You look like you just swallowed a frog and it got stuck in your trachea which is—"

"Sst! Shut up, Hunk," he hisses, finger trying to end the call, but missing the only button on his bracelet like a champion.

"What? Keith, are you okay? Did something happen?"

Hunk's voice couldn't become higher in the almost silent hallway. He only hopes that the ruckus inside covers him.

"I'll talk to you later, right now I'm in the middle of something," he whispers like a madman.

A loud, positively lascivious and prolonged moan shuts both of them up and they’re forced to wait for it to finish, but it just goes on and on and on to no end, until suddenly it stops.

The chanting, though, gets louder and scarier.

"W-was that a—"

But even before he pronounces the word, a shade of something dark blooms on his face and even though Keith's face is mostly covered in shadows, he feels his own face heat up like he's a blushing virgin who never heard moans before now.

Granted, he never dropped in to live sex or sex between aliens. But those are semantics.

He finally finds the blasted button and ends the call before his mortification reaches higher levels. Making sure he won't be receiving any unexpected calls, he slips into the room at the end of the hallway and takes the Myr from where the Queen (who he most probably just saw in the most indecent of poses she could ever be) threw it in front of a mirror on a desk.

The constellations adorning the walls and ceiling take Keith's breath away, despite him seeing countless of them. With utmost care, he takes the cluster of four crystals and puts it into a special container that's sturdy enough to withstand a cannon blast.

He's about to get out through the same door he entered when voices and steps outside of it makes him reconsider that escape route. Turning around he finds no other point of exit except—

The window it is.

As he suspected, it faces the canyon and it's flanked by waterfalls that obscure the landing. He looks back at the door, then at the sheer drop into complete darkness.

A sigh.

"Here goes nothing."

Then he jumps.

 

***

“We both told you to remain on board!”

Lotor’s ire isn’t explosive as it usually is in others; rather, it’s a simmering thing that he notices in the flash of his eyes, the restless pacing, the slight hiss of his words, the frown of his mouth.

“I did what you needed to be done.”

“You disobeyed not one, but _two_ direct orders,” Shiro says, a calm that makes the room feel cold.

“You needed someone to infiltrate the stronghold. You had no way to go around this yourselves without breaching the peace treaty. I did what needed to be done.”

Lotor’s eyes narrow down. “You put yourself into danger.”

Keith meets his gaze; his calm hangs on a thread. “I sustained minor injuries. What are they in the face of a successful mission?”

“You jumped from a mountain!” A muscle jumps up on Lotor’s jaw.

“It was more of a mammoth creature turned into a hill than—“

“I know how Bacherzha stronghold looks like! Don’t lecture me on Lum’ar geography,” Lotor grits out, the distance between them doing nothing to appease the fire in his eyes.

“Acxa and Ezor caught me.” He crosses his arms and stares Lotor down.

“And if they wouldn’t have? Then what? There wouldn’t even be a body to retrieve.”

“You had,” Shiro says, each word oppressed by the tension in his body, “orders that you did not respect.”

“I’m a leader,” Keith counters, although he feels smaller and smaller in the face of their tightly-controlled ire. “I don’t deal well with senseless orders.”

“Keeping you safe is a moot point now?” Shiro’s disbelief bleeds out some of the tension.

Keith’s heart skips a beat at the implication of his words before the accord sails into his mind. The thing about his contract, though, is that it’s not a marriage one.

“I’m a trained soldier. I know how to watch my back, as you have proof.” He glides his hand over his seated body.

Lotor freezes on the spot, a strange look crossing his features. “It’s futile reasoning with you, isn’t it?”

“It isn’t if you don’t stop me from doing what I do best.”

Lotor leaves the room.

Keith blinks at the sudden departure, eyes inquisitive when they meet Shiro’s.

“Why did you do it, Keith?” The ice in his voice thaws.

“You needed to get out of the stalemate. We couldn’t stay here and wait for her _Royal Highness_ to decide she’s kept us at her doorstep long enough. I was perfect for that job, so I did it.”

“You don’t need to prove yourself to us.”

“I wasn’t. I know you know what I’m capable of.” He shrugs. “So why not use me?”

Shiro sighs, shaking his head. “You still don’t understand.” He gets up and heads towards the door.

“Don’t worry,” Keith says. “These scratches won’t forfeit the accord.”

Shiro freezes in the doorway, jaw working, but he leaves before he says anything.

 

***

“He thought we didn’t let him go on Lum’ar because we were afraid the accord might fall through if something happened to him.”

Lotor sits up suddenly from where his head was splayed on Shiro’s chest. “He’s not serious.”

A wan smile. “He is, unfortunately.”

Lotor closes his eyes in silent desperation.


	3. Energy-Bites

**3**

**_Energy-Bites_ **

Opening his eyes, the dark ceiling greets him. He blinks and the tears slide from the corner of his eyes, absorbed by the bandaid on his temple.

Again that dream.

It’s been four months since he returned to his planet, almost three weeks since he left it again. But those four months of idle living, hollow speeches and dull meetings with Earth’s leaders felt like the most arduous of battles, leaving him depleted of his energies by the end of each day. After almost two years of war to free a subjugated planet from the far corner of the galaxy, three earth-time years to return to his own planet, he couldn't get used to the civilian life, to not be in constant battle mode, to not think strategies or ration his food. He only ate one meal a day, sometimes nothing at all for two days straight, nausea assaulting him when he saw how much food his table could hold. Or the canteen at his base.

But the dreams continued to pester him.

Then and now.

Sometimes he wakes up drenched in sweat, a scream caught in his throat, muscles spasming as if suspended in a photo frame mid attack. Other times he wakes up like now, face tear-streaked and the oppressive sensation that he resurfaced from the depths of the ocean crawling on his skin.

The fast breathing doesn't help him get rid of the  _ toolittleoxygen _ feeling, so he forces himself to count slowly to ten as he breathes in and does the same as he breathes out. The light coming from the nebula on the fake window forces him to shield his eyes, too sensitive right now.

He stumbles into the bathroom to wash his face and pauses when he sees his reflection in the mirror. There's no need to have a closer look at what he knows already, but the bags under his eyes are darker than a couple of days ago. He takes off the bandaids, their whiteness contrasting too much with the circles beneath his eyes, and right now he's ready to take on a scratched look rather than the more subtle and deeper issue that lies in the hollow look in his eyes.

This is not the face he wants to greet Lotor or Shiro. He needs to be better than this, more focused, more determined to show them that he's good enough to be a part of their lives — to have what they have. He wants his love to be returned because he knows on a deep level that he will flourish once that happens and he'll be able to fight off the shadows of the war that still stalk him.

Stepping back into his room, a chill creeps up his back, and he becomes acutely aware of how alone he is right now, how physically far away his friends are, how emotionally distant Lotor and Shiro are. How can he conquer their feelings when all he has to give is himself and nothing more? Will this even be enough?

He steps out of the room, the cloud of thoughts becoming more oppressive with each step he takes. He reaches the training floor, realizing that if he cannot will the thoughts away, then he'll punch and kick them into submission. Maybe this way he'll be able to sleep for a couple of hours more.

Only, it seems like somebody already beat him to it.

Shiro punches the padded arm of one robot only to back kick the one behind him and then roll into a crouch to one side when the two close in on him. Just then, Keith makes eye contact with him from the doorway.

The smile that shows up on Shiro’s lips looks wobbly and like he did not have enough time to prepare a decent one for Keith. The bags under his eyes look darker from this distance, but it might be just the harsh fluorescent lights in the room. Keith's eyes are slightly burning which makes him blink repeatedly to keep at bay the discomfort.

"Keith," he greets, standing up. "Pause the training," he says to the ceiling as he walks over to Keith. A once-over is enough for Shiro. "Trouble sleeping?"

His own smile feels fake on his lips, but he doesn't think that Shiro will mind much, especially since it seems that they've met here for more or less the same reason, if Keith's people-reading skills still serve him right.

"Dream."

The curve of one corner of Shiro's lips looks familiar. Once upon a time he used that in crafting his flirting mask that always ended up looking like he was challenging people to a duel.

"That's what we're calling them now?"

"No, really. It was just a dream."

He forces himself to meet Shiro’s gaze to mask the uncomfortable feeling that crawls over his skin at talking about this with a person he doesn't know that well.

"You can't remember what it is about, but you wake up feeling like there's too little oxygen in the room?"

Keith's long pause gives him the answer. His flesh hand comes to lie on his shoulder in a gentle manner, as if anything rougher or more jostling than that would break the fragile trust their demons are in the middle of forging.

"You don't use your other arm much," he says just to change the subject, but then an idea nestles in his mind. "Other than in fights, that is."

Shiro's gaze travels down to the metal arm, lying still along his body and completely exposed.

"It doesn't have any other use than offense and defense."

"Do you feel anything with it?" Comes the bold question, but it's probably two AM and he can't be arsed about how it sounds.

Shiro pauses, searching for words.

"I don't feel the temperature, if that's what you're asking, but..."

"Yeah?"

His hand finds its way on Shiro's metal forearm, and Shiro sucks in a sudden breath at the contact. The arm jolts under his touch and he allows himself to be even bolder and close his fingers around it, letting his warmth seep into the cold metal.

"Sometimes I can feel— the texture of things. If they're smooth or rough or bumpy or liquid."

The closeness doesn't feel unnatural; not even the fact that Keith only needs to lean up on his toes to kiss Shiro. He's right there, breathing, waiting, gazing down at Keith with so much want that Keith forgets, for a moment, about everything past, present or future.

He's this tight knot of desire and want and  _ taketaketake. _ He wants to take everything Shiro has to offer him; he's hungry for it, thirsty— yet, he still hesitates.

Whatever makes him pause is strong enough to bring him back to his senses. Slowly, he lets his hand fall back along his body, and if he wasn't looking into Shiro's face, he would have missed the subtle changes in his expression.

_ Regret, want, hurt—  _

He's not sure which one it is that Shiro's feeling or if it's a bitter concoction of all of them, but he steps back, the same way he did back then on the deck.

"Are you okay?" Shiro asks.

He's not able to pick up on the inflections in his voice. As far as reading him, Keith has little material in his memory. He took a lot of time on learning Lotor's quirks and turns because he was the wild card between the two of them, unpredictable and shrewd. Shiro was the backbone, the shield that protected and guarded when things went haywire. Shiro's predictable.

Shiro's not okay.

"I should ask you the same," Keith counters, leaning a bit forward to inspect Shiro's surprised face. "You look like you're not sleeping well, either."

A self-deprecating laugh escapes him. "Do I? Nothing to worry about."

"I don't think so. And I should know, I see my reflection in the mirror every other morning."

Shiro doesn't meet his gaze. "I'm hungry. Aren't you?"

Lifting an eyebrow, Keith nods reluctantly and follows Shiro out of the training room, feeling that their conversation is not quite over. Not if Shiro invited him to a late dinner. Early breakfast?

"You too with the tentacles?" Keith wants to groan internally, but ends up doing it externally.

Shiro chuckles as they take their seats at the closest table to the fake window. A galaxy sails at a snail's pace from the right, its blues and reds and a mixture between cream, orange and violet easy on Keith's sensitive eyes.

"It's Lotor's favorite dish," Shiro says by way of apology. "I guess it rubbed off on me after being with him for so long."

"How long is that?" he asks, once again not caring how bold he sounds, while he picks at his own dish.

Same as before. Same bland flavor, too.

"I'm not sure. Time in space is a lot slower than on Earth. Or a lot faster, depending from which angle you look at it."

"An estimation, then."

Shiro pauses to munch on a tentacle and think about it. The thicker end of it moves in semi-circles at the side of his mouth as the gaze beneath his furrowed brow focuses on an invisible point on the table. Keith is too caught up in the way the tentacle slowly disappears in his mouth to hear Shiro's response.

"Sorry, can you say that again?"

An amused smile plays at Shiro's oily lips.

"I said that it must be several years now. He helped me escaped from a nasty situation and since then I pledged myself to him."

"And how long after that did you two—"

"Get together?" Shiro grins at Keith, and Keith takes a spoonful of his meal, regretting the decision almost as soon as he tastes it. "Not long after that. I'm not sure how we ended up being together. I remember I suffered from nightmares and had trouble controlling myself when I was touched, so I think it's around that time that Lotor slowly became physically intimate with me to get me to stop being scared of touch. In time, the nightmares lessened, too."

"Oh. That's— that's nice of him.”

Shiro's grin turns sharp. "He's not that bad, you know."

"I know." Pause. "He's not that good either."

Shiro chuckles as he nods. "Well, the jury's still out there. He can't always be good or bad. He's just— himself."

"Sometimes being himself is too much."

Shiro laughs. "But that's just his charm, isn't it?"

Keith doesn't say anything in response to that, eyes trained on the spoon that's making random circles in his meal.

"You've been picking at your food since we sat down. What's wrong? Isn't the meal good or are you not hungry?"

A soft exhale, followed by a grimace-turned-smile.

"I'm not hungry in general ever since— the war," he admits quietly. He doesn't know why now, but he wants to just tell somebody about this. He still feels like crying. "My stomach closes up whenever I see food on the table. I've no idea why. The therapist I was seeing for a short while back on Earth told me that I just need some time to get accustomed to civilian life again. But I don't think it's just that."

Shiro listens with an unreadable expression on his face.

"You think it has to do with what you saw during the war."

"I saw a lot of things, but I don't think they got to me. I mean, I don't feel any different, except for this thing with eating."

"I thought the same after the war. But Lotor had enough patience to help me see that it did actually affect me and that this was a way for my body to help me cope with the war."

"By refusing to eat? How does that figure in the helping scheme?"

Shiro smiles and shakes his head. "It's a bit more complicated and it's tied down to the guilt you feel. It's a psychological thing. You feel guilty for having access to so much food when the Syca were eating dirt and bugs because of the war that depleted the planet of its natural resources. I refused food, too. And if it wasn't for Lotor, I would've been a shadow of myself today."

"So what? You're saying that I should go ask Lotor for help with this?"

"No. I'm not saying that. I got through this issue because I trust Lotor with my life and I feel comfortable around him. You shouldn't be vulnerable with anyone that you don't trust implicitly."

Hunk's image flashes in his mind, but he doesn't think Hunk’s up to what Keith needs right now.

"I trust you," he finds himself saying and they both pause, looking at each other as if this is the first time they meet and have a feeling that they already know one another.

"I'm— flattered."

"No, no, I wasn't trying to flatter you. I really do trust you." Pause. "Not just because of this conversations. I mean, I wouldn't have talked about this with you, if I didn't already trust you. This goes back to the war."

"Then will you trust me to help you overcome this obstacle?"

Keith nods. "I'll do my best."

"And you'll tell me when what I do or say makes you uncomfortable or doesn't work with you?"

"Yes."

"Good." He pushes his bowl of tentacles towards Keith.

Keith stares at them.

"Is something wrong?" asks Shiro, his focus solely on Keith.

Keith snorts and shakes his head. "Not really. Just that— Lotor did the same thing the last time I was here. And we ended up striking a deal of some sort."

Shiro grins. "Good, then this might help you get used to Lotor through me."

Keith snorts again. "I doubt it'd be that easy. He only needs to be present in a room to make the atmosphere change in the blink of an eye."

"That might be true, but it is a start."

Keith acquiesces through a nod. "So, how are we going to do this?"

"Did you like them when Lotor offered them to you?"

"Yeah. He told me to eat all of it, but I could only manage a quarter."

"Well, they are more consistent than the ones that are found on Earth, and you aren't eating consistently, so the fact that you managed even that much is a great feat in itself. Let's start small, eat as much as you feel like it now."

With a dubious look, Keith takes one and dips it into the sauce. To his surprise, Shiro does the same.

"What?" he asks when Keith pauses with the tentacle midair.

"Nothing." He takes all of it into his mouth, being a small one. "Lotor didn't join me."

Shiro shrugs. "I'm actually hungry," he admits and Keith chuckles which brings a boyish smile on Shiro's face.

They eat in silence for a while, Keith becoming slower and slower what with his stomach closing up after several tentacles. Cleaning his oily fingers on a napkin, he watches Shiro as he proceeds to finish his meal.

"So what's with the crystal I brought back? Myr was it?"

Swallowing, Shiro nods. He takes a sip of water.

"It's a cluster of four crystals that shine for ten thousand years before going out. It's rare and very precious as it can act as a planet's core, releasing nutrients into the earth which makes it yielding and fertile. We need this for Eskia to allow your flora to find a new home and populate the planet, but the Queen somehow got hold of this information about the crystal's characteristics and started to act up even though we had an accord with her. As you probably heard and saw, Lotor's governing methods rely mostly on giving something in return for something else and also maintaining the good relations between his Empire and the planets he frees or adds under his protection."

Keith hums, a pensive look shadowing his eyes.

"Isn't he a born conqueror? He gave me that impression during the Syca war."

"Well, yeah, he does have such a tendency, but he just needs to be reminded of his own ideals when his strategies and diplomatic talks get the better of him. He is a born leader," he says it with something in his voice that exceeds fondness.

Keith hums again.

"Where is he now?"

That takes Shiro by surprise. "He's on deck, as usual."

Keith frowns. "Does he ever sleep?"

"Very little, if at all. His internal clock measures time differently."

"Huh, that's... handy, I guess."

Shiro smiles. "He does have an Empire to run, doesn't he?"

"But he has you at his side," Keith says as he stands up.

Shiro's smile turns into something softer, eyes drooping and features gentling.

"He does," he says quietly. “Keith.” The tone of his voice makes him stop and turn towards Shiro. “You did well just now.” They both know what the praise is for, and Keith’s heart constricts at the look on Shiro’s face.

He finds Lotor standing over the screen of a computer and murmuring something to another Galra whose face Keith never saw until now. Most probably another general, judging by the military stance and the uniform.

“Emperor Lotor,” Keith says, stopping a couple of feet away from the two. “I forgot to give you this." He throws the small, black cube. "In case she’ll accuse you of something you obviously had no hand in.”

As soon as Lotor catches it, several photos begin to blink alive, one more revealing than the previous one.

“And you said you’re no diplomat,” Lotor comments, a smile in his eyes that’s kept at bay from his lips.

Keith grins, suddenly and viciously. “I’m just the shadow that follows one. Sometimes I steal a trick or two.”

“These will, indeed, be helpful.”

“Why? The Lum’ar don’t condone BDSM?”  

Lotor’s features, when he looks at Keith, shift in a way that has a lot of question raise in Keith’s mind, especially when he takes Keith in as if he’s considering something.

“Nothing of the sort. They have nothing against that kind of practice seeing as the Lum’ar in general are private people and value their spiritual energy. Being prejudiced and criticising towards someone is seen as a waste of energy, and they’re anything but wasteful. What will give me leverage will be the priest. He’s not of Lum’ar origins which, given their beliefs and rules, will pose enough of a problem to the Queen to make her more amenable to talk to.”

Oh. So he did stumble upon a powerful weapon, only not in the way that he thought of. It’s quite possible that only his planet has this thing for wasting their energy on shaming people for things that they like.

“General Thace, this is Space Fleet Admiral Keith Kogane of Earth,” Lotor changes the subject and Keith thinks he does a good job at masking the cringe at hearing the whole rank before his name. “You’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the following  _ phoebs.” _

At this, Keith lets his surprise show, just as General Thace salutes him the Galra way and Keith exchanges the gesture.

“Does that mean that you’ve reconsidered letting me on missions?”

Lotor’s lazer-focused gaze makes Keith’s breath hitch. “Is there any other way with you? You’ve reminded me of your stubbornness with the last unsanctioned mission, which brought me to the decision that it’s better to have you in my sight than have you go off on your own without us knowing.”

He can’t help the victorious smile from spreading on his lips.

“Wipe that smile off, Kogane. You won’t be going alone from now on.”

He doesn’t really care. As long as he’s not confined to the ship and he can focus on something other than his own demons and unrequited feelings, he’s okay with any condition Lotor has.

“You’ll learn the art of diplomacy, too,” Lotor changes the topic once again.

Keith secretly thinks that the emperor finds pleasure in hearing himself talk.

“Um, no, I refuse.”

“I was not suggesting.”

“And you’re not my superior.”

“Not officially, no. But you do happen to be on my ship.”

“As a guest, yes. And the last I heard, guests don’t need to do anything they don’t want to.”

A sharp smile crests Lotor’s lips. “You were a guest until you decided to meddle with the Galra Empire affairs. Now, if there is anyone in the entire Empire that you are required to answer and listen to is either me or Shiro.”

“Fuck.” A pause. His eyes find General Thace, his unreadable expression actually helping Keith think of a loophole. “I’ll take Shiro, then.”

The malicious smile intensifies. “It was he who suggested that you learned this skill.”

Betrayed from every side. How did it come to this?

“Is it too late to want to change ships? I’m sure Hunk will find good use for my skills.”

“You are not getting out of this, Kogane.”

_ “Fuck,” _ he says, this time more forcefully.

“Is ‘fuck’ a terrestrial sound for being in distress?” General Thace says, clearly puzzled.

“The word,” Lotor begins, his amusement increasing by the second,  _ “fuck,” _ — and he’s doing that on purpose because Keith already feels like he just plunged into another reality, one where Lotor just said the word ‘fuck’ — “has a variety of shades of meaning on Earth. You will find that it is quite entertaining to learn about each of them, General. I’m sure Kolivan will have more information in a couple of movements.”

“And I’m not in distress,” Keith grumbles. “If there’s nothing else that you require me to do,  _ my lord, _ I’d like to go now.”

“I believe the correct term is  _ emperor, _ if you insist on using titles, Kogane.”

“Oh, how I  _ hate you,” _ he mumbles to himself, incomprehensible enough to not be understood by the others.

He takes his leave, but not before hearing a curious exchange of words between the two Galra.

“Are all earthlings this insubordinate?” General Thace asks.

A huff from Lotor. “This one is a special case that behaves like this only when I’m around.”


	4. Crash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll get to answer the comments once I finish posting the whole story, but thanks in advance. I read and enjoy them every time I receive them. XD

**4**

**_Crash_ **

The next space-day finds Keith wandering along the hallways and trying to get the hang of the ship’s layout so as not to be forced to ask people every time he loses himself in that maze or when he's looking for one room or another. Turning one corner, though, he almost crashes into General Thace.

"I'm sorry," Keith says, a courtesy he didn't know he possessed.

"There is nothing to apologize for."

There's not even a minimal change in his expression, which unnerves Keith enough to excuse himself and be on his merry way.

"Space Fleet Admiral—"

"Stop right there," Keith turns on his heels, a warning in his tone of voice and pointed expression. "It's Keith. Just Keith. Forget about the other titles."

Something that looks close to surprise shifts on the General's face.

"Then what does 'Kogane' mean?"

Keith wants to apply his palm to his face — or the other way around — but he overcame that phase around the time his contact with Lance got drastically reduced.

"That is my surname." And the memory of Lotor pronouncing it flashes across his mind and  _ great _ now he has Lotor's voice stuck in his head. Every thought afterwards sounds ten times worse in that prim, more-evolved-than-your-grandkids-thrice-removed voice. "Forget about that one too. Just Keith, okay?"

General Thace nods once, his gaze still intent on him as the pause in the conversation descends heavy and oppressive over them.

Just before the whole situation becomes even more awkward, he catches Shiro's profile in the corner of his eye.

"Excuse me," he says, and where does all this politeness towards a Galra General comes from, he will probably never know. "Shiro," he calls, moving to block Shiro's path. "A word." But he doesn't wait for him to follow as he grabs Shiro's metal arm (not thinking about it much — no, not even a bit) and drags him into the first room that’s empty.

It turns out to be a data-stocking room.

Shiro’s surprise morphs into worry. "Is something wrong?"

"No… yes—" But before he continues, Shiro takes his hand and places something in it. When Keith looks at the contents in his palm, he's dumbfounded. "Are these— caramels?"

Shiro smiles. "Not quite. They're close to fudge in color and texture, yes, but they're not sweet."

Keith frowns. "Then what are they?" He takes one and unwraps it.

"Taste it and then tell me." The smile doesn't lessen.

Keith throws him a confused look, then, reluctantly, he takes the caramel-shaped thing into his mouth. At first, there's no flavor, but after he breaks it between his teeth, liquid gushes out and the explosion of flavors has him inhale sharply. It tastes more like a full course than like a specific ingredient or dish.

"What is this? It's like I'm eating a three course meal."

Shiro laughs. "They're energy-bites, that's what they call them. They're made for the Galra soldiers. This ship and the Gladiator are the only ships that have a kitchen. The others are either military-oriented or used for various transportation, so they devised these square-shaped caramels to keep the soldiers healthy and fit. They both act as an energy shake and sustenance. An average Galra soldier takes one every twenty hours, so you should probably take one every forty, if not fifty hours to not upset your stomach."

Keith feels blown away by the information and the idea that that small square could give the intake of substances necessary to keep a being healthy and at the peak of its shape.

"And it'd probably be a good idea to start seriously training so that your body can assimilate them faster."

"Huh." He studies the other pieces in his hand. "Thank you, I guess."

He pockets the energy-bites, Shiro’s pleased grin all over his face.

"So what was it that you wanted to talk to me?"

Ah, right. Back to serious business.

Keith narrows down his gaze. "Why did you suggest to Lotor that I needed lessons in diplomacy?"

"Ah." The grin deflates and gets sucked into the drain. "That wasn't a serious suggestion. I'm so sorry. I didn't think he'd go along with it. We were talking about you the other day and it got out before I could think better of it."

Keith pauses. "You... talked about me?"

"Yeah, always. Or, well, not quite always, but most of the time."

The ease with which Shiro affirms that like it’s the most normal thing to do baffles Keith to no end. He doesn't even know what part of the information to prod for more.

"Is that, like, a favorite pastime for you two?"

Shiro looks like Keith just slapped him. "No! Heavens, did I sound like it was that degrading? No, stars, nothing of the sort. It's just that you're here and neither of us thought that we'd see you so soon after the war, so we're just — happy to have you close by all the time."

That feels like a whiplash to Keith. "Happy."

Shiro nods enthusiastically. "You don't realize it, but Lotor gets a kick out of your every encounter. It stimulates him to give his all in everything he does."

Rectification: this is the whiplash moment. Forget about the floor opening up and swallowing him. He's slapped by the oxygen in the room like there's no tomorrow.

"Are you sure we're talking about the same Lotor? Royal Assholeness Extraordinair?" His face contorts into something akin to when he bites into a lemon. "Sorry, I forgot myself for a moment there."

But Shiro only laughs. "He is, he is. Don't worry, I call him something like that from time to time, too. I usually go for 'pompous git' or 'your royal high horse'. He always gives me the stink eye when I do, but he cools down a notch or two afterwards."

Keith finds himself chuckling despite the surreal feeling of the situation.

"I'm still not sure this isn't a dream. I mean, I wanted to talk to you about the diplomatic thing to maybe make him change his mind and then I get—" Shiro's face contorts into something less amiable and agreeable. "What?"

"Lotor won't change his mind on this one."

"What! You're not serious."

The wince is strong with this one. "Unfortunately."

Keith gives in and applies palm to face. "This is not happening to me."

"Hey, look at this from the bright side: I'll be there every time and you won't need to do any talking. At first."

"Joy."

"I'm so sorry."

Keith sighs. "I guess it needed to happen. I'll get through it – somehow."

"Don't worry, you'll see that Lotor is a born diplomat and has a lot of patience."

"Wonderful." But the smile and feeling just isn't in it.

When he exits the room he almost crashes into General Thace once again. The shock feels like a lighting bolt in his body although he doesn't show much of it outwardly.

"I really hope this won't become a habit," he mutters as the General makes room for Keith to step out.

"Commander Shirogane," he salutes Shiro and Shiro just smiles and gives a curt nod.

"General Thace," Shiro says. "What brings you here?"

"I have been informed of a possible leak in the food supply towards the second quadrant. Rebels seem to be behind the attacks, but we're not sure. Since the Emperor gave his consent, I was coming to get Keith."

Fire surges through Keith like a rocket, stomach grumbling uncomfortably. "I don't need anybody's consent to go on missions, for Christ's sake!" he explodes, unable to keep the ire under control.

As always, General Thace offers no sympathy in contrast to Shiro who winces a bit.

"We're leaving in one varga," the General continues. "Be at the hangar in forty dobash." He salutes them both and leaves.

"This is all your fault," he hisses towards Shiro, feeling comfortable enough around him to allow himself this, before heading the opposite way.

 

***

No training prepares you for this.

It comes fast; you don’t know what hits you. You don’t know what hits the  _ person next to you. _

First, their communication with the mothership was cut, then the blast came which threw them off course. Or so it seemed.

They crash-land on a planet, General Thace gravely injured because the blast hit his side of the ship. Keith escapes with minor scratches — when he checks his body for injuries — and a sharp ring in his ears that threatens to develop into a migraine and make him throw up. But his stomach is the last of his worries.

His voice sounds like it comes from a hundred miles distance when he asks Thace about his own well-being. He's buzzed just like Keith and he answers in a couple of unintelligible words that Keith suspects is Galra, so he asks once again—  _ screams _ because the ringing makes his own words sound like they're muffled.

The windshield is broken, a thick branch having thrust through it, narrowly missing both pilots. It also seems to be the only thing keeping the ship from falling, Keith concludes when he leans over the edge of the window to ascertain where they crashed.

On shaky legs, he ducks under the branch to check on General Thace.

His left side is soaked in a purple-blue liquid. Not sparing any second, he helps Thace out of his top and uses it as a makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding.

"We're in a tree. That branch is the only thing keeping us up. Do you think you could climb down?"

Thace needs a bit of time to make sense of Keith's words and then he shakes his head. As Keith suspected already. This means that he'll have to make a hard decision.

"I'm going to get help," he says, as clear and slow as he can. "You need to resist for a while. Can you do that? Can you keep yourself awake until I get back? Start singing if it helps, but don't fall asleep, okay?"

Thace grumbles something that Keith doesn't understand, so he leans closer to his face.

"What was that?"

"Galra don't sing," he says.

A sharp grin pulls at the scratches on his face. "I'm sure you have a secret hymn that sings millennia of praises to the Empire you all love so much. Think about that or whatever, but keep awake, okay?"

Thace gives a faint nod, hand pressing on his side. Only the most subtle of winces shifts his stoic face and Keith feels the urge to just pat the big alien and tell him that it's going to be all right, but he remembers in time their  _ victory or death _ battle cry and pushes back the urge.

Right now, his top priority is to keep the General alive, so he makes his way out through the window, balancing on the nose of the ship and scrambling inelegantly over the branch. But just as he rights himself, a bout of dizziness overwhelms him and he loses his balance, falling over.

He doesn't even have time to yelp because he realizes that it’s not the dizziness anymore that makes him feel like he’s falling into a void, but that he’s actually on his way to sure death when strings attached themselves to his middle and stop his fall.

The whiplash makes another bout of nausea wash over him and he has to cover his mouth with both hands to not throw up right there and then.

A masked creature with amphibian ears appears in his vision, flying towards him and his instinct tells him to fight off the stranger, but they just catch him by the string that’s around his middle and pull back towards the trunk of the tree.

"Who are you?" he asks, following their non-verbal instructions to catch on the multitude of lianas enveloping the tree.

They don't answer, instead they start climbing up like they were born to this lifestyle. For all Keith knows, that might very well be the truth. Climbing, though, comes with difficulty to Keith as he’s fighting off the nausea and the dizziness that don't quite go away.

When he reaches the branch from where he fell, three other masked amphibian-like creatures are there. Not only that, but they’re taking Thace out of the ship. Instinct makes him rush towards them.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing! Leave him alone! He's injured!"

But the creature that saved him puts a big hand — that looks surprisingly hairy for an amphibian and compared to the other two aliens — on his chest and stops him.

He wants to fight them, but his usual agility and speed of mind are lacking right now and his vision goes in and out of focus from time to time, so he settles for glaring at them for a bit, before his attention is pulled by Thace being successfully taken out of the ship.

"Keith, don't fight them," he says between shallow breaths. "They're allies. Won't harm us."

"How can you tell?" He pushes against the hand on his chest and gets near Thace, the others letting him.

"They're Syca."

"What? But that can't be! We're supposed to be in quadrant two. Syca planet is in quadrant three."

"No. Miss-information. Will... explain... later."

He passes out like a light.

Keith sighs, trying to fight off the sudden assault of emotions. He looks up at the one who saved him, searching for something in his slanty eyes, an almost oblique line on each side of a covered nose.

He remembers that his suit has a translator built in so he turns it on and prays it’s still functional.

"Where are you taking us?"

Well, that might have sounded a bit harsh, but in the current state he’s in he couldn't care less about what he sounds like.

A moment passes. Then a couple more. No one speaks. He’s beginning to fear that the translator didn't work. Then the creature who saved him begins to make some weird signs with their hands and emit a couple of sounds that seem to be entirely produced using the throat and not any part of the mouth to shape them. They sound like mismatched castanets.

Oh, no.

Syca people don't use words of any kind to communicate. They have a preternatural ability to understand almost any language, but they can't communicate in return in their own.

Does his translator have a build-in visual translation?

Now he regrets not knowing sign language, although he doubts that Earth sign languages are the same as the Syca.

He presses the buttons inside his suit's collar, a robot voice telling him the various languages that it can translate, getting frustrated by the second because there has to be at least a million there and he has no time to search through all of them.

"Do you have a voice search or something?" he asks in frustration.

_ "Voice-recognition search activated," _ it says.  _ "What would you like to search for." _

"Syca sign language!"

Nothing happens at first. They’re all looking at him and waiting for him to — do something? Talk? He’s not sure, but the silence isn't even disturbed by birds. Oh, right. Syca planet has very little fauna and flora after the war. He looks around at the dying forest of trees. This planet is in serious trouble.

Right then, the artificial voice returns.

_ "Syca sign language found — please position the camera in your collar towards the intended Syca." _

Keith stands up and approaches the Syca who signed.

"Could you say that again?"

The Syca complies.

_ "Hi Keith — we are going to take you to our settlement at the edge of the forest — your friend is in grave danger — they need to be tended to by our Sha'ha." _

"Sha'ha? Wait, you know my name?"

The Syca signs some more.  _ "I will explain later — we need to climb down." _

Keith almost bites his tongue to not ask for more, so he nods and they let the three Syca ease Thace down on a makeshift stretcher made of huge leaves and lianas. Next, it’s Keith and the Syca. Around the middle of the trunk, Keith’s starting to get tired. His vision has been going in and out for a while now.

"What's your name?" he asks feebly.

The Syca looks up at him, being a few meters lower than Keith and he clicks some sounds and then makes a swift sign around his face, touching his chin with his little finger. Good thing that Keith has the presence of mind to turn himself away from the trunk and position the camera in the general direction of the Syca.

_ "L-E-H-D-R-E pronounced the way it is written in your language — with an aspired ‘h’." _

Keith nods and falls, registering the widening of those slanty eyes before passing out.

He comes to his sense what feels like a short while after, but his eyes open to darkness and fear gripping his insides, and this time he does throw up. He barely manages to turn on his side.

Sounds filter from somewhere behind him and then a door opens, lights coming on in the room. He shields his eyes on instinct, prepared for the harsh neon of the ship, but when he opens them, a soft glow helps him get accustomed to his surroundings.

When he turns, a tall, gangly, hairy and amphibian creature stands with a glowing something in his hand. It looks a lot like jellyfish, considering the fact that it fluctuates lazily and some of the many tentacles are entwined on his forearm. A couple others are attached to various parts of their body.

"Where am I?" His throat is killing him. He coughs and tries to swallow, but the hideous bitter taste makes him grimace.

The creature hands him something that Keith can't quite make heads and tails of, but it has the vague shape of a container of some sorts. When he lifts himself up on his elbow, he discovers that the soft light was produced by a myriad of glowing 'jellyfish' scattered along the walls of the room. Looking all around him he sees his own vomit to the side of his leaf-bed and realizes that the energy-bite Shiro gave him is almost intact. Wonderful.

When he takes the container he realizes that it’s made of wood and has the shape of a glass, the mouth narrow and the base inflated. He drinks the liquid and it’s the purest water he ever tasted. Clean and fresh and washing away any kind of taste from his mouth.

He sits up and feels the various places where he’s bandaged. He wears his tank top and his uniform's pants.

The castanets are back, but he doesn't have the top of his suit on him. However, his bracelet glows and he pushes the button on it.

_ "Interface recognition accepted — ready to translate." _

Of course Hunk designed a bracelet that works with his suit's program. He loves his friend!

The creature repeats.

_ "You are in the settlement near the forest where I told you we would take you two." _

"Lehdre?" He tries the name, and Lehdre nods. "Where's Thace? My friend. The Galra you took from the ship."

The bracelet translates.  _ "They are stable — lost a lot of blood — now are sleeping — do you want to see them." _

_ They? _ Keith frowns. Maybe the Syca have no knowledge of gender.

"Yeah. Take me to him, please."

Keith follows Lehdre through the hole that opens in the wall and into another room where Thace is lying still on the ground, torso naked apart from the brown bandage that covers his stomach. The left side is darker in color right where the injury is.

"How is he? Did your doctor say anything on his health? Will he survive?"

_ "They will — the injury didn't touch any vital organ — now they are recovering from the loss of blood." _

Relief floods his senses. Good. Thace isn't in any immediate danger. He leans on the nearest wall and slowly plops down, relief making his legs jelly. He has to put his head between his knees and just breathe for a few seconds to get himself under control.

Then he realizes that they haven't contacted Lotor or the other way around.

"Where is my shirt?"

Lehdre points back towards his room.

He hurries there and takes his shirt that lies at the foot of his bed.

"Computer, initiate contact with Emperor Lotor's ship."

_ "Unable to contact — transmitters malfunctioning." _

"Dammit!" He returns to Lehdre and Thace. "Do you have any way of contacting ships?"

The bracelet translates.  _ "We do but for the last couple of movements we haven't been able to send or receive anything." _

Movements — weeks. At least his memory still remembers enough important words in Galra because apparently the computer doesn't know English to perfection. Doesn't matter. He can work with that.

"Why is that? What happened."

Lehdre falls silent for a few seconds, then begins signing and clicking his throat and before long his translator has a hard time following them.

_ "We were receiving dates and vargas from a Galra ship meant to bring us food supplies when the ship was attacked out of nowhere — the two other ships sent to our planet afterwards met the same faith." _

Keith is both listening to the information and trying to figure out which hand sign goes with what word. Knowing the native language is never disadvantageous.

"Why didn't you contact Lo— Emperor Lotor?"

_ "We did that after the second ship but we never received a response." _

That doesn't sound good. Most likely the rebels blocked any transmission that went further than the ship range when they were close to the planet.

"Emperor Lotor is already looking into it, which is why we're here." He wants to pat Lehdre's shoulder, but the creature is so tall that Keith would need to stand on the tip of his toes to even scratch that high. "He will make sure that your planet will receive the supplies you need. But until then you'll need to bear with us. Unfortunately, we've been hit out of nowhere, too. That's why you found us there."

Lehdre signs.

_ "And you lost communication with your mothership." _

Well, that’s embarrassing. His expression says it all. What Keith doesn't expect is the huffing noise coming from the oblique little nostrils and a faint clicking  _ kah-kah-kah _ . Are they — laughing?

Not only that, but Lehdre probably wanted to give Keith a friendly slap on the back— it finishes with sending Keith on the floor. He isn't sure his shoulder’s intact after that kind of 'friendly' impact with the Syca.

_ "Oh sorry." _ His translator says, monotone, which sounds wonderfully sarcastic.  _ "I forgot that your race is lightly-build." _

That's a subtle way of saying that they’re weak. Well, give Keith a bit of time to fully recover and he'll show you how  _ weak  _ he is. But he gracefully holds his tongue. One of those lessons in diplomacy he’s sure Lotor will impart. There’s not a shadow of doubt.

_ "How are your injuries." _ Lehdre asks.

"They're not as bad as his."

_ "They are strong — exactly what you expect from a Galra General." _

"Well, Lotor is not as build as General Thace for example, yet there he is, ruling an empire."

Another strange huff.

_ "Emperor Lotor has their sharp mind to make up for what they are lacking although I do not think that they lack anything." _

Keith agrees with that affirmation, despite not finding it in himself to do so verbally.

"Tell me something, because it's been bothering me for a while now. Why do you use neutral pronouns to refer to someone who clearly identifies as male?"

_ "My people have both genders which is why we identify as both at the same time — to accommodate this we use neutral pronouns — our language has only neutral pronouns articles and nouns — nothing is one gender or the other." _

"That explains everything."

Lehdre huffs. " _ Does it. _ "

"Well, kind of. We have the same thing on my planet, only there are still controversies regarding gender determined pronouns. It's a whole mess that I'm not gonna poke at if my life depended on it. It's almost like religion and politics. We've stooped that low."

_ "Pritch'chah be slaved you finally found your savior," _ a new Syca says from the open hole in the opposite wall.

_ "I did," _ Lehdre says.

"Excuse me, what does h—they mean?"

_ "You didn't tell them — oh, Lehdre you head-in-the-earth-hole blunt," _ they say, and Keith is compelled to think that his translator is broken, but there's also the notion that it has its limits with idioms.

_ "I didn't have the chance." _

_ "Let me." _ Most probably the new-comer asked that, but again his translator has something against punctuation, too.  _ "You saved this thunder-stuck-in-brothel's-hide in the war five decaphoebes ago and brought them to me." _

Keith is either going to burst out laughing at the ridiculous translations or make such weird faces that these people will believe that his injuries are of a different nature. Then it registers — what the Syca said.

"Wait. You're that kid I picked up on the battlefield?" Lehdre nods. "But you were — what? Barely a bundle of limbs? You couldn't have been more than five."

_ "I was four decaphoebe at the time — we age differently than the other races — we grow up fast until we reach the appropriate age to reproduce which is around 20 decaphoebes and then we are slow to grow old." _

"Wow. So how old are you now?"

_ "Twenty." _

After a bit of calculations, Keith says, "so you grow up one year each month?"

Lehdre nods reluctantly.  _ "Probably — I am not familiar with those terms but the memory of you saving me is still fresh in my mind." _

Embarrassment washes over Keith. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you and your people. That war—" He pauses, gathering his thoughts and avoiding falling back into his memories.

_ "It was a lot for both you and us," _ the other Syca who’s Lehdre's mother? father? something, says, pulling Keith towards their side in a sort of hug.

It’s then that he realizes that there’s a difference between Lehdre and this one; the new Syca’s body is luscious, though not viscous. No hair covering it.

Just when Keith is starting to panic about how to subtly put some distance between them — not that they stink or anything like that, but he’s uncomfortable with this kind of physical intimacy from strangers — Thace groans.

Perfect excuse to escape. He kneels by Thace's side.

"Thace, Thace can you hear me?"

He says something, but Keith blinks, not being able to catch that. Behind him, Lehdre answers (he’s starting to tell the difference between how Lehdre's castanets sound and the others.)

_ "Yes they are well and sound and sitting right to your side." _

That’s when Thace fully opens his eyes.

Keith has no idea what to make of the fact that the first thing General Thace asked for before he was fully conscious was Keith's well-being. He files that for later perusal.

"Thace, how do you feel?"

"Better." His English comes with difficulty and chopped, as if he has a tough time making his vocal chords manipulate the right sounds. "Syca medicine is among the best you can find anywhere in this universe."

"Then we were lucky that we crashed here and not elsewhere." Keith tries for a joke and misses by a mile. That’s Lance’s expertise — among other things.

"What's the status?"

"Stranded on Syca with no means to communicate space-side."

"We'll need to find a way," Thace says.

_ "We are already working on it," _ Lehdre replies.  _ "Our brethren from the North the only stronghold besides this one that the rebels still have to break into are devising a dummy transmitter that will allow us to bypass their blockade." _

"Are there any rebels stationed here, on the planet?" Keith asks.

_ "There are four rebel stations between ours which is in the South and the North — they are working on how to get past the swamp covering these caverns and get past the Murh one of the few type of animals that were left on this planet useless even as food — too poisonous for us but vicious and hard to kill when they hide in the swamp — in the North they are protected by the capricious winds and snow and the mountains." _

Keith nods. "And how are we going to reach them?"

_ "We can't," _ says the other Syca.  _ "We would have to fly over the Midlands stations but we have no such tools and material and even if we escaped their notice we would be completely at the mercy of the northern winds." _

"Didn't you dig underground paths all the way to the North?"

Lehdre shakes their head.  _ "We tried but a couple of miles after the Midland Belt the earth turns into rock — we cannot drill through that much rock." _

He curses under his breath.

"Then what can we do?" Keith says, more to himself. "Can we take them on? How many fighters do you have here?"

_ "None — we are not aggressive by nature — we never even fought among each other." _

"Double fuck," Keith hisses, thumb stroking his chin.

"We need to think this through, Keith," Thace says, a deep rumble and eyes half-closed. "For now we're safe here. Give me time to recover and then we'll devise a plan to get to the Northern stronghold."

But Keith has the patience of a skunk on fire, as his tapping foot shows.

"Keith. Calm down. We can't do anything until we're fully recovered. I'm sure our Emperor sent rescue ships to get us."

"What if they were hit just like us? What if they died?"

"Panicking won't do us any good."

"I know!"

Just then, his bracelet starts beeping. Keith freezes. He looks down at the blinking light.

"What is that sound?" Thace inquires.

"It's not possible," Keith breaths out even as he pushes the button.

"Hey, man! What's up? I've been waiting for you to call but—" Hunk gets close to the screen in his usual way. "Are you in company? Am I disturbing you?"

But Keith is floored by the fact that 1) he didn't think about trying to contact Hunk and 2) how the fuck did it connect?

"Are you okay, Keith? Did I call at an inopportune time?"

"No!" he shrieks, which makes Hunk jump back a bit. "Sorry. I wasn't shouting at you or — anyway am I happy to see you, Hunk, you have no idea!"

"Oh," he says nervously. "I guess that's good. Right?"

"You have no idea!" He repeats himself. "We came to Syca planet to see what was happening with the cargos sent here and then we were hit and crashed into this forest with tall trees—"

"Wait, what? Crashed? "

"— and then Thace got badly injured and the Syca found us and brought us down from the tree into their stronghold which—"

"Injured? Tree? What is happening Keith?"

"—is somewhere under the swamp and we can't communicate with Lotor or anybody other than the North stronghold and the rebels stationed on this planet—"

"Wait!" Hunk raises his voice. "What are you talking about, Keith? Aren't you on the mothership?"

"Um, no. I got," — he grimaces —  _ "permission _ from Lotor to go on missions, and my first mission looks like a disaster. But before that, how did you manage to get through to me? The rebels somehow block all communication incoming or outgoing."

Hunk frowns, eyes going distant for a while. "I think it's the frequency. The Galra frequency. That's what they're controlling. The frequency that we use modulates on different other frequencies, jumping from one to another and using the main transmitters in a ten miles radius from the emitter and receiver to connect."

"In English, Hunk."

"Basically we use the Galra or any frequency around you or me to find each other, then it by-passes it and connects. I wanted our conversations to be private." He gives a nervous laugh.

Keith officially adores this man. How can anyone not love him? Then an idea pings into his brain.

"Can you hack into the rebels' server and shut down whatever they use to block our communication?"

"That's Pidge's expertise. Sorry, man. I understand what she does and know my way around a computer to a certain extent, but what you're asking me to do is beyond my abilities."

"It's okay," Keith says, offering a smile. Pidge. He misses her, too. He regrets not looking for her while on Earth, but he was — still is — too much of a mess. "You can help us another way. Can you link my bracelet to Lotor's computer?"

Hunk shakes his head. "No. The frequency we use is a closed one, meaning that only your bracelet and mine can receive the signal from the other."

And Hunk isn't on the same ship as Lotor and Shiro. Okay, okay, no need to panic. There surely is another solution.

"Tell him to make a call from the board computer and put us through with the Emperor."

"Heard him?" Keith asks.

Hunk grimaces. "Yeah, well, I can always ask Zethrid or Narti to talk to the Emperor."

Keith narrows down his gaze even as Thace gives his assent and Hunk moves out of the room he was in.

"Is there something I need to know?" Keith asks.

Hunk glances at him quickly before looking straight ahead. "Like what?" he asks, but the tremor in his voice betrays him.

"Oh, I don't know, like the fact that you seem to have reached a first name basis with the Generals that you were scared shitless of."

"Oh, that," he chuckles nervously. "Well, things have happened and — now we're good."

Keith lifts an eyebrow. That, he didn't expect, but he doesn't prod for more. There is a story there that Hunk isn’t prepared to share just yet. For one, Keith’s not a nosy person and besides, there are more pressing matters at hand than Hunk's whatever-he-has with the Generals.

But just then a huge blow shakes them all to the ground.

“What was that?” Keith asks, ruffling off the debris from his hair, their connection with Hunk interrupted.

_ “The rebels,” _ Lehdre says.  _ “They are attacking us.” _

Keith curses under his breath and then catches movement from the corner of his eye.

“Thace, no. You’re still injured.”

“I’m recovering fast,” he says as he stands up.

“No. You can’t take them on. None of us can. We need to think of another way,” Keith says, then pauses to think. “Lehdre, how long do you think this stronghold can hold against the attacks? What are they firing at us?”

This time it’s the other Syca answering.  _ “Most probably they are using Galra cannons stolen from you — most of the stronghold is covered by five meters of swamp, but the part we’re currently in has about three km of solid earth — at the rate they are firing and if they don’t have something stronger then it would take them two to three vargas to reach us.” _

Once again, curses fall from Keith’s lips.

“We’ll need to infiltrate their settlements,” Thace says. “That is our only option.”

“But how? I don’t think we can’t get out the way we came in,” — he looks at the two Syca and they shake their heads — “probably that exit is heavily watched by the enemy. Where’s your leader? We’d like to speak to them and make a plan of attack.”

Lehdre looks at the other one.  _ “Our leader has been captured by the rebels a movement ago.” _

“What? How?” This isn’t happening to Keith.

“They thought they’d be able to establish an amicable relationship with them.”

Keith sighs. The urge to apply his palm to his face and say  _ to hell with it _ is strong. But he resists. He’s made that way. He turns towards Thace, his expression unreadable, and for a couple of minutes no one says or does anything. It’s when the second blow comes and they’re on the floor again, the wall to their left crumbling only for the earth to close in again, that they snap out of the trance they were in.

“You mentioned earlier,” — Keith says as Thace gets up and secures the bandages better around himself before he takes his shirt and armor on — “that you dug a tunnel all the way to the North, right?”

_ “Almost,” _ the other Syca says.  _ “We stopped just outside the confines of the Midlands Belt.” _

“That means that you passed through the Belt. Is the tunnel still intact?”

They look at each other.  _ “We think so — nobody has gone there for several decaphoebs.” _

His bracelet starts emitting that sound again. “It’s as good as anything.” He goes to accept the call, but Thace’s big hand covers his wrist.

“Let’s not rush into this, Keith. We have no intel on their settlements. We’d be going in blind. Besides, we have no idea if the tunnel even opens anywhere near their base.”

Keith stares up at Thace, a momentary distraction making him think of both Lotor and Shiro and how they’re taller than him — one more than the other — but it passes just as quickly when he registers the words. He turns to Lehdre.

“Does the tunnel open anywhere near that base?”

Lehdre and their companion make that clicking noise to each other a couple of times, his translator not being able to pick up anything. Thace’s hand doesn’t let go of his wrist, and the ringing noise continues. It all annoys Keith.

_ “It does,”  _ Lehdre says.  _ “It opens up right inside the barracks built into a rocky hill used to shelter us in case of attacks.” _

Keith lifts an eyebrow. So they aren’t new to war and battles. The fact that they did nothing to prepare themselves against future attacks except hide underground doesn’t sit well with Keith’s hot-blooded temperament. The ringing persists.

“See.” He looks up at Thace again. “There’s a way I can get inside.”

Thace shakes his head. “You’ll do no such thing. I’m not letting you go in blind.”

That makes Keith’s eyebrow go up. “You’re not my caretaker. Between you and me, I’m not the one still recovering from an injury.”

All said with the incoming call sound as background. Hunk is one persistent fella.

“You have a concussion, Keith.” He points out to Keith’s right temple where a brown bandage is stuck. “We need to think this through.”

This time, Keith explodes, head pulsing right where he hit his head, hands violently going up and he takes a few steps back. “We don’t have  _ time _ ! This is a hit or miss kinda mission. You obviously can’t go anywhere, so that leaves me. I’m not going to fight you on this. I’m going in and that’s final.”

“I’m your superior here, Keith.” There is something to be said about General Thace and how his expression and tone of voice doesn’t change one bit.

Keith sees red. “If you think for  _ one moment _ that I’m gonna conform just because you pulled rank, then you’re sorely mistaken. What has gotten into you, anyway? Since when is my personal safety more important than the mission? I’m not going to sit here and let everyone die three km underground. Did— “And he pauses, eyes widening. “Lotor put you up to this, didn’t he? He made you my babysitter. That  _ controlling bastard!” _

Thace doesn’t move a muscle as Keith goes down the conspiracy road.

“Emperor Lotor did no such thing. He did not tell me to take care of you in any way. Everything I said comes from my experience with your race and how easily hurt you are. Every Galra mission’s imperative of this kind is for the pair to get back to HQ in one piece.”

“I don’t believe you,” Keith says, still fuming from his conspiracy theory.

“You don’t have to,” Thace says, and just then another blow shakes them to the ground.

Keith glares at Thace as his bracelet finally stops ringing.

“I’m going and that’s final. You can stay here and prepare for an evac. Once I’m inside their base, I’ll find whatever blocks our communication and destroy it.” He doesn’t wait for Thace to say or counter argue anymore. He turns towards Lehdre. “Do you have any explosives?”

_ “No.” _

“Of course you don’t,” Keith says under his breath, fingers twisting a lock of hair and foot tapping as he thinks of any other way he can go about this. “Are there any materials that could act as explosives? Anything that’s easily inflammable?”

Lehdre nods.  _ “There is a concoction of grey earth and the juice of Meazy a fruit that has stopped growing on this side of the planet.” _

“Tell me you still have at least one stocked in with your food.”

Lehdre shakes their head and Keith’s about to curse. Another blow shakes them and Keith has to lean on the wall to not fall.

_ “We do not have any such fruit but Sha’ha has a small bottle of its juice.” _

“Will it be enough to make a bomb?”

_ “A small one yes.” _

“Good. That’s all I need.”

Lehdre nods and they leave together with the other Syca. He turns to Thace.

“You’ll be all alone in an enemy base. You won’t have backup.”

“I’ve been in worse situations,” Keith says breezily.

This time Thace narrows down his eyes. “You still do not realize that we are supposed to be a team in this.”

“We are, but you’re injured. Tell me, how do we get out of this situation otherwise? We can’t fight them, not with you in this state and no real backup from the Syca. I have to do this.”

Something shifts on Thace’s face then, a shadow of an emotion that Keith can’t identify at first. He frowns, not comprehending what Thace’s deal is, but then it dawns on him. But it’s so ridiculous an assumption that he’s afraid of voicing it out loud.

He still does, though.

“Are you worried about me?”

“Is that such a surprising thing?”

Keith was prepared to have his question ignored, heck he was already starting to file it away with the other things he said that were stupid. But having Thace confirm his suspicions — he has no idea what to say or how to react.

Lehdre comes back with a small bottle made of clay.

_ “Make sure that you do not jostle the bottle too much — when you find whatever you need to blow up shake the bottle and then throw it at your target.” _

“Perfect.” Keith nods as he takes the bottle.

_ “But be warned Keith,” _ Lehdre says and places a big, hairy hand on his shoulder.  _ “We are not sure of its effectiveness — it might work and it might not.” _

So this is a gamble he was making. Perfect. Exactly what he likes in such situations.

“Make sure that you’re prepared to explain the whole situation as soon as our communication is cleared, okay?”

Lehdre nods. Keith goes back into his room to equip himself. When he returns, he meets Thace’s gaze.

“For what it’s worth, I promise I’ll watch my back.”

“Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep.”

Is he brooding? His tone of voice sounds a bit like he is.

Keith shrugs. “If something happens to me, at least you’ll know that I did everything in my power to get out of there in one piece.”

Thace doesn’t say anything, so Keith follows Lehdre out of the room.


	5. Plan

**5**

**_Plan_ **

Hunk tries to contact Keith again and again while he rushes along the hallways towards the bridge where Narti and Zethrid are, but to no avail. There’s nothing wrong with the signal. Keith receives the calls, Hunk checked. He just doesn’t answer. Then fear grips his insides.

“Please don’t be true,” he whispers furiously to himself as he ignores everyone saluting him and hastens his pace. “Please don’t be true.”

He reaches the bridge before he realizes it.

“Zethrid, Keith’s in trouble!” he says in one breath, forgetting about the jittery feeling he still gets when he’s around the two generals.

Zethrid, who was talking to a Galra until Hunk burst in, turns towards him, her usually scary face laser-focused on him. If Hunk wasn’t so worried about his friend, he would’ve jumped out of his skin, but he feels a presence at his side and Kova climbs down from Narti’s shoulder onto Hunk’s, nuzzling into his hair to offer comfort.

“Leave us,” Zethrid tells the Galra. “What is the nature of the trouble.”

Hunk breathes fast. “He went on a mission with Thace on this planet we had that war on, Syca, and they got hit by rebels. From what he told me, they’ve settled on the planet and are blocking the communication between Syca and you and they also attack your supply ships. That’s what they went to investigate, but got hit—“

Narti’s hand on his shoulder stops him and he realizes he’s already in the middle of a panic attack. Kova makes himself comfortable on his other shoulder, continuing to nuzzle his hair softly.

“General Thace told me to contact your Emperor. They need to know what’s happening. I tried contacting Keith back, but he’s not answering. I suspect that they’re under attack.”

Zethrid is already onto it even as Hunk elaborates. It connects after a couple of seconds, the emperor’s inscrutable eyes gazing back at them, Shiro just behind him.

“What is the matter, Zethrid?”

“We have problems, sir,” she says, clinical and with an authority in her voice that Hunk just knows he wouldn’t have been able to possess. “General Thace and Keith are stranded on Syca with no way of contacting us or us them.” Well, technically, that isn’t true, but Hunk’s too slow to interrupt Zethrid’s efficient relay of information. “There are rebels settled down there, as we suspected. I request permission—“

“Is Keith all right?” Shiro asks, a glimpse of worry breaking his stoic expression.

Lotor lets him get in front of him. Zethrid turns to Hunk. Oh, this is his cue to talk. He takes strength from both Kova and Narti to keep his nerves in check. This is the first time he talks to either Commander Shiro or Emperor Lotor.

“He is. General Thace is the one who’s injured, but he’s recovering. They’re somewhere underground from what I could make out and what Keith told me. Other than this, I don’t know much else.”

Shiro nods, gaze lowering as he steps back. Lotor glances his way before returning to them, the full power of authority showing from his features and his stance.

“We have no choice but to go there and help them out,” Lotor says. “Syca aren’t warlike. They have no backup whatsoever.”

“With all due respect, sir, I’m requesting permission for me and Narti to go there alone. Our ships have cloaking. We would be undetected.”

Kova stands to attention just as an idea occurs to Hunk.

“I wouldn’t underestimate our enemies. They might be better prepared than we think.”

“But sir, I can take them on. No one can avoid aerial attacks from an enemy they can’t see.” The hot-blood in Zethrid is starting to peak up.

“We are not in a position to risk that much.”

“Risk? This is about going in, taking down our enemies and then rescuing Thace and Keith.”

“Might I suggest—” Hunk speaks up before he realizes he interrupted the emperor from retaliating.

The words die in his throat. They wait and stare at Hunk.

“Go on,” the emperor says.

“I might have an idea that could benefit us.”

Lotor nods. “We’re all ears.”

Kova nuzzles into his hair.

 

***

He’s just placing back the big clay jug to cover the trap door in the corner of the dark room, when movement outside the door freezes his muscles in place.

There’s barely enough time for him to hide behind the jug he just moved before light floods the dingy room and he counts three sets of steps. Peeking from one side he takes notice of the tall figures, clad in black, nondescript clothes and completely masked. One of them turns towards Keith and he retreats, keeping his breath even and soft, controlling his heartbeat, clearing away his mind of any doubts or distracting thoughts.

He pulls up the black fabric of his undershirt to cover his face up to beneath his eyes as he waits for the approaching steps. They don’t know he’s there; they’re just scouting the room for supplies.

The shadow of the rebel who looked his way inflates on the floor like a stain of ink in a puddle of water. He flexes his fingers, controlling the urge to unsheathe his blade. That action would give away his whereabouts as his blade is securely strapped to his back.

He waits. Calmness pervades his pores, the stuffy air making perspiration coat his forehead. Perfect — now he can feel the smallest shift of air. He’s like a revving engine, waiting for the shot to tear away. Or tear  _ into. _

The rebel stops before the jug and leans over it to search for something on the shelf above.

Keith strikes.

He pushes the clay container into the enemy and rolls swiftly towards the other two, blade in his hand. He engages both of them at the same time, his weapon on the horizontal blocking theirs and pushing them into the shelf with such force that the many trinkets on various planks fall into a cascade over them.

The somersault saves him from a blow as the third rebel charges towards him. But the enemy is clever, Keith will give them that. They pirouette back and doesn’t even give Keith a chance to change his stance as he sees himself slammed with familiar force into the opposite wall.

The gasp is ripped from within his lungs as he hits his head once again. A splitting headache makes him groan and fall into a heap on the floor, blade a few paces to his right.

The rebel is right before him, intention clear in his body language. Keith protects his front the best he can, gathering himself into the foetal position, but the ribs and biceps hurt like five kinds of hell, until he feels himself being lifted off the ground and thrown into the opposite corner of the room, breaking several clay jugs.

Some pieces pierce through his suit, scratching his thigh and another one his side, a cry tearing from his throat as he fights against the nausea and pain that assaults his brain without pause. He needs to get his bearings. Fast. The enemy is once again upon him, his shadow blocking the light completely, but just then Keith’s hands dig into sand or some sort of sand-like material that must’ve been inside the jugs.

He throws a handful into the rebel’s face. He knows that won’t stop them, since they’re protected by the mask, but the split second of distraction is everything Keith needs to get on his fours and then lift his body on his hands and rotate his midriff in such a way as to have his legs split into a wide arc and hit the rebel’s head twice in quick succession.

He loses control over balance and he crashes to the floor once again, fighting against the impulse to throw up or pass out, but when he looks around, nothing moves.

He allows himself a small respite, working on his breathing to calm himself down. When he feels in control once again, he stands and surveys the damage.

The two rebels to his left are out of commission — he finds out — from a fortuitous accident where two small clay containers with what looks like earth and something of a yellow color hit their head. The other one, who proved to be a real thorn in his side, he’s not sure if they passed out because of his kicks or because they, too, hit their head on the wooden shelf since they’re lying near that.

He retrieves his blade and unsheathes it and takes out the bottle of clay from his pouch. Placing his ear on it, he holds his breath and prays that there’s no hissing sound coming from it that would alert him of the inevitable. There isn’t, so he breathes out and gingerly places the bottle back in the pouch.

He goes to the door to peak both ways and listen for anyone coming his way, but the poorly-lit passageway reveals nothing. On his left there are stairs leading up, so this must be some kind of a cellar or, at the very least, a lower level. He’s about to move out, when a noise from inside makes him whirl around, blade ready to attack or defend, but nothing moves. He sighs and sheathes his blade once again. Then an idea occurs to him.

He takes all three rebels and pushes them to stand back to back, not before taking off their boots and emptying all the pockets — hidden or not — that he can find on them. He keeps the thumb drive-like gadget. If it’s on them, then it must contain some sort of information.

Just when he’s about to pocket the thumb drive, his bracelet flashes twice.

_ “Mapper detected — downloading data — ready for use.” _

That has Keith’s eyebrows go into his hairline. Will Hunk ever stop amazing him? Really, the man has Keith’s eternal gratitude already, but this is making Keith want to rethink who he wants to chase. He doesn’t activate the new data, instead he takes the ridiculously thick ropes made of lianas and another material that he doesn’t recognize, which are used to hang up other clay jugs from the ceiling and ties the passed out rebels four times to make sure that they won’t escape anytime soon, and then turns to go.

But something niggles at the back of his mind. Returning, he studies them. On impulse he leans down and takes off the first rebel’s mask.

The shock makes him take two steps back, mask falling on the floor.

Galra.

“This is the Syca war all over again,” he whispers to himself.

Flashbacks flood his mind and there’s too little air filling his lungs. He needs to get a grip, so he folds into three, sweaty palms covering his knees as he tries to regain control over his breath and mind. But the flashes are strong, feeling as if they come back with a vengeance to get him into a panic attack.

With trembling hands he approaches the other two and takes off their masks, revealing the same purple skin and tufts and angular facial features.

Keith throws up into a jug. He doesn’t want to be here right now. He wants to be light years away from this planet and system, preferably in a coma where he doesn’t remember what the word war means or suffering or innocent blood spilled. He wants  _ out, he’s suffocating. _

Dizziness catches up with him as he stumbles out of the room and climbs the stairs. He has the presence of mind to stop before bursting through the door and possibly alerting the other rebels  _ (Galra)  _ of his presence.

It’s with unbearable effort that he forces control back into his hands and pushes back whatever remnants of the war his brain dredged up.

But the trembling won’t stop.

And the breathing exercises aren’t working anymore.

This sucks so much that he wants to huddle in a corner and cry himself to sleep.

Shiro’s face sails into his mind out of nowhere, his words effervescent against his overworked mind.

_ You shouldn't be vulnerable with anyone that you don't trust implicitly. _

_ Keith, you did well just now. _

If only Shiro was there with him. If only he was there to reassure Keith that he can do this, he can complete this mission successfully.

But he’s not, and Keith’s left to gather back the pieces of himself and glue them together the best he can.

So he shoulders in, both mentally and physically, his body reminding him of the gashes on his thigh and side, and  _ that _ makes him wince as his gaze scouts the area above ground. A big room full of equipment both native and foreign —  _ Galra. _ Or more like whatever they managed to steal from Lotor’s ships.

Anger washes his senses clean and it’s better. This allows him concentration, a sharpness of mind that disappeared in the fight below ground. Now he’s focused. And angry.

He uses cloth-like bandages from a table nearby, recognizing the earth brown, and straps one on his thigh, over the pants, while the other one he secures to his bare skin after he lifts the shirt and undershirt. There’s nothing in there that he can use as an antiseptic or anything that he recognizes as such, so to be safe he hopes he’ll manage to complete this mission before he loses too much blood or the places get infected.

He exits the room wrapped in bandages and a prayer.

Finding the Syca leader is hard. There are a ton of useless rooms in this settlement, most of them  _ empty. _ They were either used for something before being invaded and the rebels cleared them out or the Syca loved to have lots of empty rooms in their homes.

He also finds it peculiar that no other rebel crosses his way. It’s impossible for a base this huge to be manned by just three. There must be others.

It’s when he rounds a corner that he spots five rebels gathered around something.

He’d like to say that he offs them one by one, but he’s not a bragger nor a liar. Well, not in this case. They put up a fight. Fucking  _ Galra _ and their huge bodies that move like water against his that was becoming more and more sluggish as time passed by.

In a moment of pure blind panic he takes out a flash grenade and blinds them for a few precious moments, enough time to work his way between them and cut the back of their ankles, incapacitating them.

When he turns around, Galra rebels down and passed out from his round two of blows to their heads, a single creature sits on a chair in the middle of the carnage.

This must be the Syca leader. He asks them this, but they don’t respond right away. The oblique eyes are big in their head as they stare up at Keith. He gives up wasting breath on them, so he makes fast work of his ropes when a series of blows shakes the structure around them. With the Syca leader free from their bounds, he calls the South stronghold, his bracelet picking up the internal frequency and praying — again — that there are no rebels listening in. It’s Thace that answers.

“I got the leader,” he says between shallow breaths. “What’s happening outside? Heard explosions close to this base. Did they give up and returned?”

“No, they are still firing at us. Maybe—“

But whatever he says next is lost as Hunk’s voice overwhelms Thace’s.

“Keith! Keith, can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Keith’s voice trembles, the adrenaline spike crashing down. “Yeah, I can hear you. What’s happening?”

“Oh  _ thank God!” _ Hunk’s relief pulls a smile from Keith. “I thought we’d be too late. Where are you right now?”

“What do you mean ‘too late’? I’m in the middle of the rebel settlement, North of the forest-swamp.”

“Stay there, I’m coming.”

“What? Hunk what the hell’s going on?!”

“No time to explain,” Hunk says. “Get out, but stay close to the building.”

He doesn’t get another word in edgewise because Hunk disconnects as another series of blasts shake the ground under their feet. His heartbeat is going a mile a minute, the flashbacks threatening to come back as he remembers the rebels downstairs. He helps the leader up, noticing a deep wound on their thigh. He has to act as a support for the Syca, because they can’t walk without Keith to keep their body steady.

He orders his bracelet to conjure a map and show them the fastest way towards an exit. In under two minutes they’re out just in time to witness four Galra spaceships firing at will in the direction of the forest-swamp, several yards away. Just when Keith’s mind kind of goes offline, unable to make heads or tails of the whole scene, one of the ships breaks away from the formation and heads their way.

It’s only when it lands near the base that Keith realizes with a shock what he’s really looking at.

“You’re flying Lotor’s Sincline?” Keith couldn’t be more flabbergasted if he tried as he leaves the Syca leader to approach Hunk.

Hunk’s nervous smile appears as he approaches Keith.

“Yeah, well, when I told him the plan I had, he wouldn’t let me come here unless I took his personal ship. Real smooth ship, if I say so myself. It’s like an extended arm or something.”

But Keith hugs Hunk out of nowhere because if he doesn’t, his legs will really give out on him. He had no idea how much he missed his old friend until he had the man right in front of him.

“Oh, uhh,” Hunk titters nervously, then hugs Keith back, losing some of his awkwardness. “I’m glad to see you, too, Keith.”

“Yeah.”

They break apart naturally, but allowing himself that moment of complete relaxation sent the wrong signals to his body and now he’s unable to calibrate back to focusing on the mission. They’re still ways off until Keith can even start to think about chilling.

Hunk’s smile slides off his face when he takes in Keith’s state and Keith inherently knows that he’s in for a world of trouble.

“Oh my god!  _ Keith! _ What did you do? You’re bleeding! What happened?”

He checks his body, gaze intent, hands delicate, but Keith still winces when they pass over the wound on his side.

“Nothing I’ve never been through already,” Keith cuts down the worrying, since Hunk looks like he’s working himself into a fuss. “Do you have any protein bar or anything to help me kick up my blood sugar? I’m about two seconds away from passing out.”

Hunk frowns, and it’s not confusion that his features scrunch up into, as he searches his pockets.

“Of course you’re barely standing,” he mutters and his voice turns into something Keith has never heard before; there’s anger laden in his words and that makes Keith’s heartbeat surge a bit. “Have you looked at yourself? You’re bleeding all over. And I’m sure you have a concussion. It’s a miracle you’re even standing right now.”

“I slept it off,” Keith grits out, not in the mood for a lecture even though he knows he deserves it. Hell,  _ he’d  _ give himself one if his body wasn’t craving sugar like an addict. “And I’m not infallible, I had to get through a set of rebels to get to the Syca leader,” he continues, pointing back at the Syca watching them with an inscrutable gaze.

It takes a couple of seconds before Hunk’s hands return with one protein bar and two candies.

“You like caramel candies?”

“Shut up,” Hunk mutters darkly. “They help me focus. Take them or leave them.”

The fact that Hunk became so moody right after asserting hi, has Keith speechless. He  _ never _ saw Hunk angry.  _ Never. _ He thought the guy was incapable of such a thing.

Hunk’s frown doesn’t lessen. His lips remain pressed together and his gaze thunderous.

Keith takes both the bar and the candies. “Thanks,” he says, not meeting Hunk’s eyes as he tears the wrapper on the protein bar with his teeth and takes half of it in one bite. “Now help me bring their leader back to their stronghold,” — no manners became Keith as he talks with his mouth full — “Thace is waiting there prepared to evac everyone.”

Hunk shakes his head. “You’re going to take the ship and help Zethrid, Narti and Shiro with the oncoming rebels. There are more rebel stations than you told us.”

“What? Shiro’s here?”

Hunk nods. “I’m going to take care of the evac. You four just need to hold on until our backup arrives. Lotor’s sending the Daibazaal fleet to our aid, but they need some time to reach our quandrant even with the hyperspace.”

“Okay. Understood.” He pats Hunk’s shoulder as he heads towards the ship. “Take care, Hunk!”

“Don’t I always?” The dark smoke in his voice dissipates.

Keith turns a grin as he walks backwards. “Now more than ever, I meant.”

Hunk grins back and salutes as he approaches the South Syca leader.

 

***

He’s chewing on the last half of the protein bar, feeling as bit by bit his energy is coming back. The windshield shuts down and the ship comes alive under his fingers. He doesn’t understand much of the weird neon purple symbols on his dashboard, but he somehow knows what to do to get it off the ground.

He stops trying to use logic to fly the Sincline when he wants it to go right, but instead it nosedives. Fairly quickly he learns that this is more an instinct-based spaceship, so he calms himself and wills it both with his mind and the hands on the levers to reach the others.

“Keith!” Shiro’s voice and face appears in the left corner of the windshield. “Are you o—  _ stars, _ what happened to you?! You’re bleeding!”

“Shiro, please. I had enough lectures for today. I’m okay,” he says, cutting right to the chase. “ETA: less than one minute.”

He reaches them just in time to parry a laser shooting with his own. He engages the Sincline’s cannons and shoots like a maniac only to realize that the ground cannons have  _ shields _ .

_ “Fuck.”  _ He opens the communication with the other three ships. “Did we manage to take something down?”

“Negative,” says General Zethrid, anger contorting her features — but that might just be her normal face. “They’re well-protected by that barrier.”

“And when we try to get close to them, the rebels shoot at us from blasters.”

Keith bites his thumbnail. They’re in a stalemate and fresh rebel forces are coming from the West. They’ll reach them in less than an hour.

“We need to find a way to break their formation,” Keith says. “The particle barrier covers about 60% of the cannons. If we can get behind them, we’d be able to blow them away.”

“But how?” Zethrid asks, pausing a moment to shoot back at the on-coming wave of laser balls. “They have the forest at their backs and our ships are too big to fit in between the trees. We’d crash before he get a chance to retaliate.”

Keith was well-aware of this from the moment he got a view from above at the enemy’s battle formation. About seven cannons strewn in a semi-circle just in front of the mounds of earth and tall vegetation that made a bumpy line between the rebels and the thick forest.

“We could,” Zethrid begins, “shoot at the trees and clear some spa—“

“No,” Keith cuts her immediately. “We run the risk of collapsing the Syca base underground and there are people still there.”

Talking about the people he left behind, he opens the communication with the stronghold on his computer board.

“Keith, did you manage to destroy whatever blocks our communication?”

Keith shakes his head. “I didn’t. By the time I freed the Syca leader, Hunk called and we exchanged places. Now I’m fighting the rebels posted outside your location. Apparently, Lotor’s sending the Daibazaal fleet to our aid, but we need to hold the line until they reach us. Hunk took the leader. He’s probably halfway towards you.”

“General Thace,” Zethrid butts in. They can’t see each other, but they can communicate all the same. “We might need to rethink this whole plan. We can’t get past their particle barriers that protects their cannons, and you might be buried underneath if we shoot at the forest behind to free us some space.”

Thace doesn’t say anything for a couple of seconds and Keith must maneuver the ship into a spiral to avoid on-coming blasters. All four of them disperse in different directions.

“We’ll evac to their settlement. Take refuge in there until our backup arrives.”

Keith nods. “Okay. We’ll keep them busy until then.”

Thace disconnects and Keith renews his attack as do the others. Sometimes he twirls in the air and nosedives between the shootings, retaliating with his own, before sailing back up when he reaches the middle of the sequoia-like trees. It becomes a hit-and-run game, and Keith starts to have fun because Sincline really tailors itself to his mode of flying. He never encountered such a malleable ship that molds itself onto Keith’s maneuvers, the smooth way it cuts corners and changes course.

It’s a delight to fly the thing.

And then the rebels blow up their own base and Keith stares in shock as the blast inflates into a gravity-compressed ball, before it explodes into flames and smoke and debris.

His heart just about stops beating, his only thought being Hunk and Thace and the rest of Syca that were heading towards that base, if not they already reached.

“Keith.” Shiro returns on his screen, but he’s not paying attention as he fumbles with his bracelet, panic gripping his chest with such a vengeance that pained sounds escape erratically from his mouth along with the wheezes as he struggles to breath.

“Come on, come on,  _ come on!” _

“Keith, breathe!” Shiro filters through his haze, and his eyes dart up to look at him, unable to comprehend at first what he’s actually looking at, if he knows this person at all. “Breathe with me, Keith. It’s okay! They’re safe.”

“How can you know that?” Keith spits out, erratic breathing making his words sound like they’re strangled out of his throat, feeling as if his entire being is pouring down from the seat, liquid bones unable to sustain his frame. “They’re— you saw that blast— they’re—“

“No, they’re not!”

_ “No one’s answering!” _ Keith shouts, just as his bracelet emits a fizz-like sound.

“Keith,” comes Hunk’s voice, washed in static. “Are you there?”

Someone’s coughing, more static, incomprehensible sounds.

“Hunk! Hunk are you okay? Is everybody okay?”

“Yeah —re okay —ast didn’t catch—re here with Gene—“

Relief makes Keith melt into the seat, taking several deep breaths to calm his beating heart. The receding adrenaline surge from the panic leaves him once again weak, joints trembling. He unwraps one candy with shaking hands.

“Keith, are you okay?” Shiro has been there the whole time, and when Keith looks at him his worry is etched in the deep valley between his eyebrows.

He nods, not trusting his voice to deliver reassuring words.

“What-t’s the s-stat-tus?” he asks his bracelet when the static disappears, stumbling over a couple of letters because of his trembling jaw, just as Zethrid and Narti connect again on his dashboard.

“Everybody’s safe,” comes Thace’s commanding tone of voice. “The tunnel to the settlement has crashed down. We’re trapped here.”

Keith slams his head against the headrest.  _ “Fuck.” _

“We need another plan,” Shiro cuts in. “What are our options?”

“With the North exit now down,” Thace says, “we’re left only with the West exit, which the rebels are guarding right now.”

“No other exit points?”

“No.”

Keith lets the conversation unfold, waiting for the sugar to kick in once again, and regain his energy and focus of mind.

“How big is the underground stronghold?” Zethrid asks. “Can you send us a map?”

“I can send the map to Keith’s bracelet,” Hunk butts in, “and then have it download into the Sincline’s board computer.”

There are sounds coming from the bracelet, then, most probably Hunk asking for the map from the Syca. Several minutes pass by with Zethrid, Narti and Shiro engaged in aerial combat with the ground cannons. Keith remains a ways back, cloaked.

The dizziness is new.

He unwraps another candy, hoping that it’ll help the process speed up. His wounds ache, now that his body is in stand-by, most of all the one on his head. He flexes his fingers to get the tingling sensation out.

“What’s the status?”

Lotor’s voice.

Keith opens his eyes a slit and the Emperor’s set features appear in the window right next to Shiro’s as the Commander explains everything that has happened up until this moment. In a short amount of time it feels like it’s a conference call between Lotor, Zethrid, Shiro and Thace.

He doesn’t inquire after Keith’s well-being although Shiro specifies his condition more than once throughout the report. Now there’s a crowd on his dashboard and he looks at each one and wonders how did he end up here in this exact situation. He was supposed to send in weekly reports on the going-ons of the mission — not fight wars that are not his.

Not getting so involved he has a hard time differentiating between what is wrong and what is right.

Strength slowly bleeds into his limbs.

He cracks the bones in his neck as he flexes his shoulders and leans forward, finally becoming more awake. Lotor’s still there, and he knows that he can see each and every one of them, as well as Keith can see them.

He returns to battling alongside his other team members just as his bracelet pings.

“I sent in the map, Keith,” Hunk says. “You just need to tap the surface twice and the bracelet will send the data to the Sincline.”

He does just that and in the middle of the faces, a drawn map appears. Of course, he should’ve expected graphite on a piece of paper, and not something digital.

The map is pretty straightforward. There is a compass in the right, upper corner marking the four cardinal points. In the middle of the paper, around seven lines disperse in all directions, all of them crossed with an ‘x’ at the end except the one that leads to the edge of the forest (and which is covered by the rebels).

Keith studies the map and frowns.

“How much of the stronghold is under the forest?”

Several seconds tick by.

“About two thirds.”

A blow hits Keith’s ship and he’s sent tumbling in the air, his connection to the other ships and Lotor disconnected momentarily.

“What was that?” Hunk asks, anxiousness anting up in his voice. “Were you hit?”

“Yeah,” Keith croaks as he manages to right the ship, multiple lights blinking in and out on the dashboard before they settle down. “But I’m okay.”

It’s Lotor that appears on his dashboard.

“What’s your status, Admiral,” he inquires, voice devoid of any and all emotion.

Keith wants to punch him. Suddenly, Lotor’s voice makes him cranky and pissed off for some reason.

“The ship’s okay. It didn’t sustain any major damage.”

Lotor pauses, laser-focused gaze waiting for Keith to elaborate further. Not this time. He won’t regale him with anything that he doesn’t specifically ask for.

One by one, Shiro, Zethrid and Narti reappear on his dashboard as Keith returns alongside their ships, firing at the enemy as he closes in to the ground, and then up again in a swift arc.

“I have a plan,” Keith says. “Thace, I need you to gather all the Syca and move towards the quarter that’s not directly under the forest. We’ll fire at the tree line near the exit and right behind the enemy lines.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Shiro says. “The whole structure could fall down on them. We don’t know how far below they are.”

“Around three km of solid rock. We either take the chances now or stay in this stalemate.”

“Understood,” Thace says and he disconnects.

Just then a window pops up on his dashboard showing the rebels as they’re firing at an iron-set door set into one side of a small hill covered in grey-green shrubs.

“They’re breaking in!” Keith says as he flies the Sincline in that direction without thinking. “Change of plans. I’m going in.”

“Admiral,” Lotor intervenes before Shiro. “You’re not sanctioned to take such an action.”

“This is a make it or break it situation. If we don’t act now, they’ll break that door. Thace and the others have  _ no weapons.  _ They’re sitting ducks. I’m not going to let innocent blood spill. Not again.” His voice breaks over the last words.

Shiro’s expression morphs into empathy, while Lotor’s remains drawn, but relents to Keith’s plan.

“Shiro, cover me,” he orders and Shiro complies, flying behind him and firing everything he’s got at the left side of the line, while Zethrid and Narti keep the rest busy. “I’m going to jump.”

“No, Keith!”

“You’ll do no such thing, Admiral.”

“Fuck you two very much,” Keith snaps as he disengages the safety belts. “I need to be inside their line to really make some damage.”

Shiro’s expression looks like he bit into a lemon. With a sigh, he relents too.

“Fine. Our main priority is to secure the door and then disarm the cannons,” he says to all the people listening.

Zethrid and Narti converge upon a big chunk of the line, firing at the particle barriers like there’s no tomorrow, while Shiro keeps the cannons directed at him. He can’t do anything for the blaster weapons the soldiers man, but Lotor’s Sincline isn’t the best ship the Galra have for nothing. Every blast that connects is quickly deflected by the material the ship is made of, thus not sustaining any damage at all.

“Stay focused, Admiral. There’s a hell of a lecture waiting for you when you return,” Lotor says and Keith blinks, not expecting the Emperor to offer such comforting words.

He nods. When he gets close enough to the ground, he ejects himself, leaving the ship to be piloted by Shiro remotely. He engages his ski-diving suit and floats above the rebels. The downside of this, Keith has it confirmed, is that the rebels shoot at him and even though he deflects, a couple burn through the material between his legs and at his sides, making him loose control.

Extreme situations call for extreme measures.

“Here goes nothing,” he says to himself.

He presses his arms to his body and his legs together and speeds his trajectory, picking up the shrubs covering the hill as his crashing place and hoping nothing is poisonous there.

There’s no time to catch his breath or prepare a strategy because the rebels are already upon him. Before they can shoot at him, he twists his lower body in the air, creating a whirlpool of legs and disarming most of them in a matter of seconds. He’s quick on his feet (he has to) so as to fight the three that haven’t been close enough to Keith.

It’s hard and he’s not at his peak anymore what with his previous injuries. He takes blows, one right in his sternum, which makes him stumble back, blacking out for a moment as the air disappears from his lungs. Another rebel catches him from behind, vice-like arms compressing over his torso and Keith uses the sturdy body as a hook to keep his body upright while he gathers his feet to his chest and then spears them into the oncoming rebel.

Both the one in front of him and the one that’s keeping him upright stumble back. The one behind weakens his grip on Keith, and that’s everything he needs as he ducks down and away from his arms, rotating his body so as his extended leg to catch at the rebel’s feet and make them fall down along the hill.

When Keith stands up, five other rebels are ascending, armed and ready to fire. And then two things happen at once: Shiro shoots at them just as they aim and a rebel crashes into him sending both of them into a furious roll down the hillside.

_ “Goddammit,” _ he grits out as he fights the rebel when they stop at the base, the enemy on top of him.

Shiro does his damnedest to keep the others away from him and he can hear Shiro in his collar calling out to him, but he has more important business to attend to than to assure Shiro that he’s okay and that he’s got this.

It’s when he manages to gather his knees to his chest and then push up that he frees himself from under the huge rebel. He doesn’t quite stand up as he jumps right on the fallen rebel, punching and scratching at him, desperation and anger gripping him like the most vicious of curses. He’s angry with himself, angry with the Galra enemies, angry with the  _ entire fucking universe _ and how unjust it is that the people inhabiting this planet have been at war for so long and  _ it’s still not over _ .

Tears streak down his cheeks, growls and cries escaping through his gritted teeth. The rebel tries to block his punches, but Keith’s erratic behavior is unpredictable and they can only do their best to defend their masked face.

“Keith, the fleet is here!” Shiro filters between his growls and it distracts him so that he whips his head around to look at the black-dotted sky behind him.

It’s enough for the rebel to haul him by the collar of his shirt, crunching the mic and transmitter sewn into it, but Keith has enough presence of mind to twist his body in mid-air and force the opponent to release his hold on him before he’s thrown. Clouds of dust raise from his skidding to a knee on the grass and hands, crouched like a feral animal a second away from pouncing, the shattering sound of something made of clay attracting his attention for a split second.

The concoction from Lehdre. Its orange-green liquid seeps into the ground, coloring the tufts of vegetation a strange hue. Vapors float from it as most probably it reacts to the strong sun rays.

The rebel takes an elbow-length knife, which brings Keith’s attention back to the fight at hand, and twirls it swiftly between his fingers before taking a step forward, feet wide apart, hands raised at shoulders level.

Keith is ready.

Neither move.

A bead of sweat glides over the side of Keith’s face, a soft exhales and the rebel jumps to attack from above, propelled by the gravity attracting him back to the ground.

Keith waits.

The shadow widens by the nanosecond and he relishes the soft breeze cooling the sweat on his face.

He waits.

They’re right there, a forearm away from striking.

Keith moves swiftly from under the attack and while the enemy’s knife sinks almost to the hilt into the yielding earth, Keith pounces on his side using his elbow to crash into the Galra’s wide back, right between the shoulders.

The grunt satisfies Keith and he’s rising to his feet again when an ominous sizzling catches his attention a little ways from the rebel’s head.

Keith has time to widen his eyes before the explosion throws him with such a force that he ends up crashing into the first tree he encounters, knocking him out.

 

**—** **End Part I —**


	6. Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up. This is gonna be rough.

**—** **Part II —**

**6**

**_Fight_ **

There’s sound at first, muffled and distorted and he’s not sure what’s happening. He still hears the deafening explosion in his ears, the blinding light, the excruciating moment of pain that refracted into a million stretched out moments until he blacked out.

_The explosion._

His eyes fly open only to close back again because harsh neon light suffuses the space where he’s in — wherever that is.

It’s minutes later that he braves the world beyond his eyelids once more, this time opening his eyes gradually, giving himself time to adjust to the light. Once his vision comes into focus, his brain translates what he sees: Shiro and Lotor sit at his side, their hands entwined in Lotor’s lap. They’re both sleeping, Shiro’s head on Lotor’s shoulder, and Lotor’s head on Shiro’s.

A pang seizes his chest at seeing them like that. Shiro’s face looks calm, but tired. It’s Lotor’s that stops Keith; there’s no relaxation there, only drawn in features, a faint frown cresting a valley between his eyebrows. A pang that doesn’t resolve itself immediately, but that persists, spreading within his body and mind. How he wishes to draw them at his sides and take away all that pain and suffering because if they’re here, then it’s Keith who caused that.

And he feels so sorry — and drowsy. It might be the pain medication that makes him have these thoughts, but he feels the sentiment in his heart, he knows that he’d think and want the same even wide awake and lucid.

They’re the ones he wants in his life. He did before, during the war when he questioned everything and everybody, he does now in spite of the bad blood between him and Lotor, and he’s sure he’ll want in the future no matter what will happen.

He doesn’t do half-assed feelings. Never did, never will. He either loves completely with everything that it entails or doesn’t at all.

Then Shiro opens his eyes and they land on Keith as if he’s the only one in the entire universe they could possibly land on.

“’m still goin’ on missions,” Keith says as soon as Shiro’s gaze focuses on him.

Shiro frowns. “Why?” he manages, barely a croak.

Keith exhales, eyelids falling shut as he feels himself being pulled back into unconsciousness, not before he notices Lotor’s dark eyes on him.

“’Cause it hel’s me fo’get...”  


***

He’s not okay after he wakes up from his almost-coma sleep. The medpod did the best to stitch tissue damage and repair internal damage, but his spine suffered the most when he crashed into the tree.

He didn’t escape Lotor and Shiro’s long lecture, once he could stay awake for more than five minutes. They took full advantage of the fact that he was bedridden and unable to escape to talk his ear off. Not to mention that it was the first time he saw Lotor look both angry and like he just brushed Death on his way home, and that, more than anything, had Keith bite back remarks and let them have this. Even though he suffered through it with a calm that surprised even himself, he had to agree with them on one affirmation.

He thanked whatever lucky star he was born under that he didn’t remain paralyzed, although he lost his usual fluidity of movement.

That is why he’s currently in a room with padded floor, wearing what can only be yoga pants from who knows where because he didn’t pack such things, a black t-shirt, and a long stick in his hands. The cream of the floor, coupled with the deep brown of the walls lighted by warm wall-lamps make the whole room feel like — a cave or, at the very least, a wooden cabin.

In front of him, General Thace is holding a similar stick, dressed in the usual clothing minus the armor. This dubs as physio and Thace offered to help Keith regain the flexibility he lost during the almost one hundred hours he was out which equals to, more or less, four space-days.

“Follow my movements,” Thace says as he moves slowly in a circle, feet always bent at the knees and upper body slightly forward as the stick remains somehow horizontal at chest level in his hand.

“This is harder than it looks,” Keith comments as he looks down at his feet trying to copy Thace’s with the same ease, but moving sluggishly and insecurely.

He didn’t count the fact that he felt every step at the base of his spine and that etches a quasi-permanent grimace on his face as beads of sweat appear on his forehead from the strain of executing the simple exercise correctly.

“There is no need to do them exactly as I do or move with the same ease,” Thace says, his attention on Keith feet. “Move in such a way as to not put too much of a strain on your spine, but move consistently and constantly. This exercise is not about executing the steps correctly, but about you regaining flexibility.”

Keith’s harsh breaths are the only thing his ears pick up on as he concentrates on the steps, but he’s losing his patience fast. He’s never been one to do repetitive exercises without something to distract his mind.

“You said, back on Syca,” he begins, slowly leaving his legs to move on autopilot. “That there was some miss-information about the quadrant in which the planet is. What did you mean by that?”

“The rebels wanted to make the Syca their base-planet, but Emperor Lotor was already negotiating with the Syca leader,” Thace explains as he continues to keep an eye on Keith’s body and the state of his discomfort. “When the rebels went to talk with the leader about being under their protection and the leader refused, that’s when we went to war. During the beginning of it, a rebel infiltrated the mothership and changed the information on the quadrant the planet was in and sent them to the on-coming fleets that the Emperor requested to come to his aid. When we found out about this, the war was already taking a heavy toll on us and the fleets were dispersed to the far corners of the Universe, so the Emperor contacted Empress Allura, who sent you and a handful of her allies to help us win this war.”

“That doesn’t explain why I knew that Syca was in the third quadrant and not two.”

“At ease, Keith,” Thace says, stopping and sitting with his legs crossed, motioning for Keith to take a place in from of him.

Keith does, but elects to lie on his side, rather than sit. His lower back needs rest.

“You knew about the wrong quadrant because most probably the emperor and the commander did not have time to explain that. As you know, a lot was happening when you arrived.”

Keith nods, eyes going a bit distant. “Yeah, a lot of staged attacks and spies.”

“Most of them, I hear, you helped catch.”

Keith shakes his head. “I just questioned their behavior. It was Lotor who did the catching.”

“But you pointed him in the right direction.”

A wan smile. “Shiro caught the spies, too. He’s good at observing things.”

Thace nods and remains silent for a while.

 

***

The training or exercises or whatever they’re called really made him break a sweat. He felt every sore muscle in his legs as he had to be extra careful not to slip in the shower since he can’t quite rely on his legs even on solid, dry ground. He’s not entirely sure he’s ready to moderate a treatise between the emperor and planet Murali’s leader. He has no patience or finesse for diplomatic talks, but Lotor insisted that it’s a skill he needs to polish, as he bitterly remembers that conversation, and that this is a sort of preliminary test to see where he should focus on working with Keith.

He didn’t like the sound of that in the least bit.

But Lotor would never accept that as an excuse to ditch this, which is why he’s looking for them to receive the main points of what’s going to be discussed on their long-distance conversation. The problem is he can’t find them in the usual places, which is weird.

He stops in front of their room, last option, but his body freezes when faint sounds filter through the door. He can’t quite make heads or tails of them, but a thud has his muscles tense and his stance lower as he prepares to charge in the moment he opens the doors.

He does charge in, feeling the absence of his blade in his hands, but he stops dead in his tracks at the sight that awaits him.

Lotor is fucking Shiro against the far wall; that explains the thud and sounds. Now, if only he remembers how one turns around and leaves this room, it would be a great help to Keith.

Every single drop of his blood rushes south and he’d remain blind before he tore his eyes away from the hot messy picture the two make. The perfect imperfection of it shoots through Keith like a very precise, very sharp bullet.

The shifting light on the glistening purple skin, muscles dipping and rising everywhere; the thighs and arms, lean but strong; the broad back, completely covering Shiro; the white hair, in disarray from Shiro’s hands; that toned ass, cheeks contracting with every powerful thrust that pulls out moans and grunts and cries from his partner; the moment Shiro’s left thigh almost slips from Lotor’s grasp, and Keith sucks in a soft breath and almost pushes a step forward to catch it, but then Lotor hoists Shiro up and gets a better grasp on that thigh, the whole picture shifting, changing, transforming, compressing into Shiro’s long, loud, wrecked moan as most probably that action shifted things on an _inner_ level, too.

And Shiro— _Christ Almighty!_

Keith has to swallow the lump in his throat at the sight of that pale neck arched under a stubbly jaw, the veins protruding, looking like the solidification of the sounds that stream from his throat. His legs crossed on Lotor’s small back, the fingers of one hand peeking over a purple shoulder, while the other one is clenched on Lotor’s nape, locks of hair almost hiding the hand entirely.

The desire to be there, right between them, to feel the friction, the sweat, the glide of skin, the hotness of it, the whispered curses and vibrating moans, almost robs him of the last shreds of rationality that he desperately clings to.

He’d like nothing more than to take care of his raging boner right here and now, but Lotor comes with a grunt and Shiro looks like he’s about to regain his senses after his own climax. Before Keith realizes it, he’s already backtracking out of the room. He’s pretty sure neither was aware of his presence, but before he worries about that, he gets back into his shower — hating that he can’t walk faster — and strokes himself hurriedly, chasing an orgasm that’s determined not to come, even with those vivid images in his mind.

He sobs when he climaxes, feeling as if someone wrenched it from him with brutal strength. The dissatisfaction leaves a sour taste in his mouth. But it’s okay; he can work with this. It’s enough for his body.

When he leaves his shower, sore muscles quivering still, Lotor and Shiro are waiting for him in his room.

Lotor’s sharp gaze is the first Keith’s lands on and his heart plummets into his gut. They know.

“Hello, Keith,” Shiro says in his amicable, warm way. “We didn’t find you in the training room and Thace said you were probably here.”

Lotor’s gaze stays steady on him, a glint in his eyes that makes every nerve in his body stand on end.

“I took a shower.”

He hopes his voice doesn’t sound as strange and out-of-space as it did to his ears. Lotor’s gaze narrows. The alarms go off.

“You didn’t wash your hair?” Lotor says.

“I did—“ _Before_ almost topples off his tongue. He swallows, mind going into overdrive. “I dried it before leaving the bathroom.”

Lotor’s narrowed gaze doesn’t change.

“Well, we need to get you up to speed with what’s going to be discussed, so meet us in the conference room ASAP,” Shiro says, unaware of the battle of wits that’s going on between Lotor and Keith.

Keith gives a curt nod, but before Lotor exits his room (he always lets Shiro in front of him on their ship since they tightened security and changed protocols), Keith catches the smirk and he knows he’s doomed.

He has to force himself under control as his feelings are running rampant, because if he doesn’t, he’ll be good for nothing at the conference. And despite being opposed to this idea, he also doesn’t want to disappoint them, which creates such conflicting emotions within him.

Without thinking, he straps the small blade to his back. It makes him feel more grounded, more secure in his own skin.

 _Treat this like going in to debrief your subordinates,_ he tells himself as he ushers out of the room, both Shiro and Lotor waiting him a few steps to the side.

“I’m good to go,” he says when he meets their expectant gazes.

They both nod and lead the way, with Shiro slowing down to match Keith’s— non-existent speed. He doesn’t strike conversation and when Keith glances up at him, he doesn’t look like he wants to. Another quick glance towards Lotor shows him nothing but a straight back, confident stride and flowing white hair.

Do they know he saw them? That’s why they do the silent treatment?

But that’s not possible. They both looked like they were none the wiser to his presence there, so this quietness can’t be the result of that.

Even before finding something to ask about or remark on, his bracelet starts beeping. Memory rushes in with Hunk switching places with Keith and then being trapped underground. He hasn’t heard from him since the map conversation.

“I need to take this,” he tells them when they look at him.

“Five dobashes,” Lotor allows, and they proceed onward without Keith.

When he accepts the call, Hunk’s warm voice rushes into his ear.

“Heya, Keith.”

“Hey, Hunk.” He smiles to himself as he leans on the wall. “It’s been a while.”

Hunk chuckles; there’s no nervousness in it. “It has. I’m sorry I haven’t contacted you until now, but Zethrid was injured and brooding over it so me and Narti had to stay with her 24/7 to make sure she doesn’t do anything strenuous to slow down her recovery.”

Keith’s tongue tickles with the questions, the curiosity to ask for more.

He chuckles softly instead.

“You had your hands full, then.”

“I did! But now she’s better.”

A long pause. Keith waits. It feels like there’s nowhere else in the universe he needs to be, but here, waiting his friend out. He closes his eyes, attuning himself to Hunk’s barely-there sound of breathing — _so nice_.

“How are you? Thace told me that you’ve recovered.”

 _Thace,_ not _General_ Thace. For some reason, this amuses Keith even more. First Zethrid and Narti, and now Thace. He expects Shiro and Lotor to be next.

“Almost,” he says. “I mean, apart from walking slower than a snail, I’m completely recovered.”

There’s a long and worrisome pause after this.

“He didn’t tell me that,” Hunk relies, sounding dismayed.

This time Keith laughs. “He doesn’t look like it, but Thace is an optimist at heart. Or he’s just very confident in his abilities to bring me back to my natural speed.”

“Or both.”

Keith nods, smile softening. “Yeah.”

“Lance called me today.”

That makes Keith feel like he crashed through a double glass window right in the middle of reality.

“Did he.”

“Yeah, he was his usual self, chipper and talking a mile a minute, but—“ Hunk trails off, a deep sigh resounding a moment later. “He didn’t look okay. There were dark circles around his eyes. I’m worried.”

“Did you ask him if he was okay?”

“That’s what worries me. He brushed the question off, saying that he only had to fight Ezor instead of Kolivan, his betrothed.”

Keith blinks, even as his body heats up and there’s an unusual pressure pushing on his brain.

“Tell you why?” Hunk hesitates. _“Hunk.”_

“Well— he said that… um… I think it’s better if we talk about this another time. When you’re feeling better.”

“Hunk, tell me!”

“You’ll get angry! And it’s already in the past. Like three weeks ago past.”

“I’m already angry,” he grits out. “I want to know what he told you.”

Hunk says something inaudible, maybe a curse or a silent prayer.

“He said that his soon-to-be husband couldn’t be there to fight him because he was wrapped up in another business. But Lance won. Against Ezor, which is no small feat.”

He can’t open his mouth to say anything for how clenched his jaw is.

“Why—“ He pauses, working on relaxing his mouth. “Why was he challenged to a fight?”

“Um, Lance didn’t tell me anything about this, but I asked Zethrid and she told me that it’s part of their tradition. It’s not compulsory, but it’s required if,“ —  and Keith can clearly hear the wince — “one of the partners seems to be... weaker in… constitution.” Then, rushed, “but it’s just to ensure that the partners are compatible and of equal strength and not, like, one of them has to fear that they’ll be forced into things that they don’t want to. So this exists to make sure there’s no possibility of abuse in the relationship.”

“Physical abuse is not the only abuse there is!” He raises his voice at Hunk like he’s the bad guy here.

Hunk pauses. “I’m aware of that, Keith.” His tone of voice changes, it loses the tentativeness in it, it becomes imposing. “Lance is, too. There’s no need to shout at me like that. Besides, Lance is protected by the contract. I’ve read it. Pidge did, too, and between our brains we didn’t find anything suspicious or ambiguous with it. If this Kolivan proves to be abusive in any way, he’ll stand before our Martial Court. Not even Emperor Lotor will be able to save him, if he’s found guilty. And the emperor knows this, because he read the contract beforehand.”

But that doesn’t appease Keith in the least bit. They _dared_ do this to Lance. As if he didn’t need to fight all his life. Even — _especially_ within the walls of his own home. Then they came and told him that he needs to fight again just to prove that he’s worth marrying? And not even his intended, but an outsider that has nothing to do with Lance or the marriage.

“He asked about you,” Hunk says after a while, but Keith is not quite present. “Do you want me to send the coordinates so you can talk to him?”

“I need to get going,” Keith says instead, mind already spitting fire. “Talk to you later.”

He disconnects as he rushes — or tries to, anyway — to the conference room, breath a wreck and temper an on-coming storm. It’s ages later that he finally sees himself inside the room, Shiro and Lotor deep in conversation at the table. They both look up at him when he steps inside.

“Is everything all right?” Shiro asks even as Lotor’s features remain blank, composed, waiting.

Keith’s closed off stance — balled fists along his sides, features set in stone and body rigid — should speak enough about the coiled anger beating a steady rhythm against his ribcage.

“Was it necessary to fight Lance?” he asks. He, too, is a pro at imitating Arctic winds. “What did you want to demonstrate with that? That you’re savages? Primi—“

The word is violently cut off by a big, lavender hand squeezing Keith’s neck, even as the sharp edge of his blade presses threateningly to Lotor’s neck.

 _“Lotor!_ He’s still _recovering!”_ Shiro’s right there, metal hand countering Lotor’s extended arm. ”Keith! Both of you, stand down!”

There are only shadows in the emperor’s eyes, coiled snakes slithering just under the surface waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Watch your tongue, Admiral,” he warns, tone just as glacial as Keith’s was. “I do not tolerate slander on me or my people.”

Fire ignites beneath Keith’s skin, smoldering his insides with a fury that tears at his seams as anger and lust fight against each other to possess Keith. He hates the part of him that finds this show of strength arousing.

“Keith, stop,” Shiro intervenes, a plea in his voice as his arm whirs from the strain to keep Lotor from pressing further and crushing his windpipe. “You don’t—“

“Understand?” He grits out from a throat that’s half-obstructed, grabbing the anger with all that he’s got. “What exactly?” He doesn’t tear his murderous gaze from Lotor’s. “That you need brawl to confirm that you’ve made a good deal? Or is the contract just a sham, a way for you Galra to assert dominance over a race that you consider beneath you?”

He’s also good at using razor-sharp words, even in life-threatening circumstance. Especially then. He will defer to _no one._ Even more so if they threaten his friends so blatantly.

Lotor’s nostrils flare.

“Lotor, don’t. He doesn’t understand yet. Don’t make this worse than it is.” But Lotor doesn’t move a muscle, so he turns his gaze to Keith. “Keith, put your sword away. There’s no need for violence. We can solve this like civilized people, okay?”

“Where was your civilization when you challenged Lance to that fight?” He thunders, a crackling lightning stilling both people that now have become his worst enemies. “You had the gal to use one of your generals instead of the Galra Lance is betrothed to! How is _that_ not a slander to Lance, if we’re talking about tradition here?” A pause. “There shouldn’t have been a fight _to begin with!”_ He shouts.

And he pushes against the hand, too furious to care about the fact that he can _die right here and now,_ and Shiro renews his forces, pushing against Lotor’s arm. But it’s Lotor that presses his neck against the blade enough for it to bite into his skin and have a line of blood trickle down the flat side of the weapon.

Both Shiro and Keith freeze at the sight, unable to tear their eyes away from the blood.

It’s Keith that retreats, retracts his blade and steps back, now that Lotor’s hand falls away from his throat. Instinctively, his own goes to rub at the place Lotor’s has been, while half-turning away from the two. Shiro is still looking at his lover as if this is the first time he is seeing him, while Lotor drags a thumb over the little cut and licks the blood from it.

Keith sheathes his blade, rubbing at a mark that’s not there to keep himself busy.

“Are you okay?” Shiro seems to find his voice and wits once again. “Do you need medical attention?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Lotor shakes his head, not letting Keith out of his sight.

Shiro turns to Keith. “Are _you_ okay?”

Keith just nods, not meeting his gaze. “I’m fine.”

Shiro sighs. “Are we done now? Did you two get it out of your systems? Because if you did, and nobody objects, I’d say we get back to the reason we’re all here.”

They both look at Keith as if expecting him to refuse and leave or at the very least become antagonistic once again. What they don’t know — or gauge from his expression — is that the little incident shook him to the core. He had no regard for his own life, but a slight cut on Lotor’s body caused by Keith’s own hand and he’s paralyzed with fear and guilt.

He needs something to distract his mind from replaying the scene over and over again, so he goes to the table and looks over the report screen at the information, placing his hands on the back of the chair to mask the slight tremor.

“You want to create a trade chain with this planet?” He needs to check if he understood well.

“Yes,” Shiro answers, which doesn’t come in the least bit as a surprise. “For Eskia. After we manage to make it a habitable planet.” He stands by Keith’s side, not close enough to feel like he encroaches on his personal space, but not far enough to feel as if Shiro wants to avoid him.

Who knows. Shiro is the kind of guy who wouldn’t show his discomfort outwardly. He’d swallow and soldier through it. Unless you knew where to look; and Keith didn’t.

“Then what’s my role here? It looks pretty straightforward. They either want to or they don’t.”

“We need them to agree,” Shiro states.

Keith looks at him. “Why’s that?”

“There’s a particular herb we need from them,” Lotor says, coming to stand on Keith’s other side. He doesn’t flinch away, but it’s a near thing. Lotor resolutely doesn’t look at him. “It’s of importance to us, to the Galra.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “What does it do? Stop internal bleeding? Cure illnesses?”

“It’s an aphrodisiac,” Lotor answers.

Keith blinks. “You’re kidding. Aren’t there a thousand uninhabited planets in this universe that could have that plant?”

Lotor shakes his head. “This aphrodisiac is particularly powerful and is only found on this planet, which is exactly what the Galra need. No other concoction works.”

Keith waits. He studies Lotor’s face and waits for the punchline, but when it doesn’t come he exhales and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Why do you need it so badly?” He meets Lotor’s gaze for a moment, before turning his attention back to the flexi, although there’s nothing new there. “I don’t think the Galra are against sharing a bed with someone of the same sex. So what’s the need for such a strong aphrodisiac?”

Lotor looks over Keith’s head at Shiro. “Galra as a species is asexual.”

Keith would’ve stumble over air right then if he wasn’t just standing.

“But you… and Shiro...”

“I’m not a pure-blood Galra. But even so, this particular trait is resounding within me, too.”

Keith frowns. “Then… how do you — procreate, if you don’t feel attracted to others?”

A strange smile adorns Lotor’s lips. It’s too soft to be true or have a place in the emperor’s repertoire.

“It’s more about chemicals, than anything. Meaning that when a Galra chooses someone to be their lifelong partner, a slow change occurs during the courting, by the end of which they are sexually proactive.”

“Understatement,” Shiro says under his breath and Lotor’s smile turns into a sharp grin.

“Okay, but — I still don’t understand why you are so adamant in getting this aphrodisiac.”

“Not all Galra find this someone, and a large part of them go on without release. Add to that the stressful lives they live and you have a very frustrated Galra. And a frustrated Galra is as good as a ticking bomb waiting to go off. Violent training doesn’t cut it after a while, so I need to find something else to help them release all that pent-up frustration.”

“So you just… tell them to take this thing and that’s it, problem solved?”

A rare chuckle escapes Lotor. “No, no such thing. I just make it available to them. It’s up to them to take care of themselves. It’s not unheard of to have groups of Galra be very close to each other and wanting to take their relationship further, but being unable to because of the time it requires for their body to become sexually active. This will help them.”

Keith didn’t expect that. This new information puts the Galra he’s been fighting with side by side and against into a new light.

“How are they as a species?” He changes the subject. “Defining traits, things I shouldn’t mention, facial expressions I should or shouldn’t wear?”

“They’re amiable,” Shiro intervenes. “They might look dangerous at first, but after a while you realize that they’re more on the right side of friendly than anything threatening.”

Keith nods and then goes to sit on the chair next to the one in the middle.

“What do they want in exchange for this?”

Lotor ambles towards Keith, stopping before his own chair.

“Exclusive market share.”

Keith lifts an eyebrow. “And you don’t want to give them that because…?”

“Murali has a wide variety of goods to sell, but I want Eskia to be a mix of commerce and nature. I want other planets to come and sell their products and settle there and not have Murali monopolize the market.”

“Then you shouldn’t have told them how much you want this aphrodisiac.”

“Nobody told them anything,” Lotor scoffs. “I wouldn’t sabotage my own investment. They reached that conclusion on their own.”

“Okay.” Keith pinches the bridge of his nose. “I just have to help you make them agree to your terms, right?”

“Are you sure you’re ready to go in with this much information?” Shiro asks.

Keith exhales. “As ready as I can be. If you keep adding to that information, I run the risk of messing things up in my head. Besides, Lotor will do most of the talking, right?”

Lotor nods, his gaze focused on Keith entirely. Shiro sighs, although his arms are still crossed like he’s seriously thinking about pulling Keith out of this.

“Okay,” Shiro says and goes to tap something on the flexi. “Here goes.”

Within moments three large and scaly-looking aliens appear in a hologram in front of their table. They look like Shiro just interrupted them from finishing a mass murder.

“Leader Seh,” Lotor greets.

“Emperor Lotor,” the alien in the middle – Seh – says; there’s a nasal quality to his voice, words tumbling out as if he has to pick up something disgusting and move it someplace else and he can’t wait to reach the destination. “We was waitin’ on yer call.”

“I apologize for the wait. We had some unpredictable, urgent matters to tend to beforehand.”

At that, Keith glances sideways, wondering if Lotor refers to his sex-against-the-wall session or their fight. Might as well be both, so he calms his inner turmoil as much as he can. He needs to act his part, and then Seh’s gaze lands on him — or so it looks like.

“This is,” — Lotor gets in before the other asks — “Earth’s Fleet Admiral, Keith Kogane. He will be my moderator.”

“A humans.” Seh lets it linger, unfinished.

The other aliens at his sides murmur something in their language that Keith doesn’t understand — and most probably neither Lotor or Shiro — and Seh nods pensively.

Keith looks at Lotor and Lotor gives him the go.

“From what I understood,” Keith says, getting right into the matter, “you want full monopoly over the future Eskia’s market.”

“Correct, Admireel,” Seh nods, drawing out Keith’s title. Keith’s eye twitches.

“But Eskia belongs to Emperor Lotor, so he should have a say in what happens there.”

This isn’t new information for anyone taking part in that conversation, but Keith was rehashing everything to gauge how he should formulate his strategy. At this point, his mind is in battle mode, looking at this peaceful talk as a war between two sides. And he needs to find the fastest solution to all of it.

“That iz tru’, but ze emperor wants somethin’ only we ‘as.” The other two make some weird guttural noises, but the leader doesn’t pay any attention to them. Instead, his gaze feels as if it rests solely on Keith. “Howeever, we cans takes into consideration ze emperor’s wish, if we cans agree uponz an exchange.”

“What sort of exchange?” Keith asks, feeling the solution nearing.

The leader pauses to talk to the other two for a bit, time which Keith uses to glance sideways at Lotor and Shiro. Both look calm and composed, but he can gauge a tenseness about their bodies that seems to keep them ready to pounce. Neither look his way, so he can’t know if he’s doing okay or not.

“You, Admireel, wills comez to our planets and we’lls give ze emperor whats he wants.”

“No,” Lotor says resolute even as Keith asks, “for how long?”

“One movement.” _A week._

“Absolutely not,” Lotor continues, his words firm, but not desperate. They sound final, non-negotiable. “Admiral Kogane is bound by a contract to me.”

“I’m not married to you,” Keith says under his breath, low enough to not be heard by the others, but perfectly understandable by Lotor. “I can do whatever I want as long as I ensure that my team and your cargo arrive safe and sound to Eskia.”

“Not as long as you’re under my command.”

Keith ignores that. “And what will I be doing during that time?”

 _“Keith,”_ Shiro’s glacial tone comes and that distracts Keith enough to look up at Shiro whose fists are balled tight at his sides, even as the leader answers his question.

“We arz makes a new aphrodisiac that’s goods for smallz species wiz weak bodies like—“

“That is absolutely out of the question,” Lotor says, rocks falling from his lips. “Thank you for your time, Leader Seh. We shall return to this conversation at a later time.” And he closes the call.

He expects Lotor to go off on a lecture spree, but it’s Shiro that marches up to him, breathing heavily.

“Are you totally out of your mind? You were about to consent to being a test subject for a drug that you don’t even know the potential dangers of? You could _die._ What is wrong with you?”

Keith springs up, sucking in a shocked breath as the action sends a sharp bout of pain up his spine. Lotor steps forward, both his and Shiro’s expressions flashing with worry before Keith plows on, ignoring the low thrum of pain that settles in his lower back.

“You wanted me here in this conversation. I only acted in such a way as to find a solution to your obvious stalemate.”

“But not at the expenses of yourself! I won’t stand by and let this happen. You’re under our care—“

“Oh, so now I’m under your care? A minute ago I was under your command. How the tides are changing here.”

Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose, taking calming breaths. “You are under Lotor’s command, just like I am, but you are under my care.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Lotor protects us, all of us on this ship, just as Zethrid and Narti do the same with their ship and your team of scientists, but I want to take care of your emotional well-being. Going there and subjecting yourself to their experiments will do you no good. It’s not worth it at all.”

“But you need that aphrodisiac. You want to make Eskia the planet of your dreams.”

Lotor shakes his head. “I will reach my goals, but not at the expenses of the ones I care about.”

That has Keith look at Lotor as if he’s a ghost. The statement triggers the recent memory of the two of them against the wall and his heart picks up its pace. Is he that close to achieving his original goal? But Shiro still looks miffed and Lotor keeps his features in check, so really, Keith has nothing to rely on.

He sighs. “Fine, I’ll drop it.” Then he frowns. “I told you that I’m not a good diplomat… and I never will be.” With that, he leaves the room.

Shiro sighs and Lotor offers comfort by embracing Shiro from behind. He places his chin on Shiro’s shoulder.

“He doesn’t know what he’s capable of,” Lotor murmurs. “One thing he is aware of, though, is that he’s a leader. But he doesn’t believe that he can rule more than a fleet of ships. I want to see him rule nations, raise to his full potential.”

“It’s because of that day that you’re so focused on honing Keith’s potential, isn’t it?”

Lotor hums. “That day he was a true leader. He shone so brightly and fiercely.”

Shiro caresses Lotor’s hands on his stomach, a fond smile cresting his lips.

“He even gave you orders without regard to rank or status.”

“When it really matters, there’s no such thing as upper or lower class. Just a struggle to make sure everyone survives.”

Shiro turns his head and kisses Lotor’s hair. “Why don’t you say these things when he’s present? He might not be as antagonistic to you as you force him to be.”

Lotor grins and presses a kiss to Shiro’s cheek. “Then where would the fun be? All that — what do you call it?”

Shiro pauses. “Spunk?”

“Yeah, spunk. All that spunk feels like a breath of fresh air during tedious and prolonged vargas of work and Emperordom.”

Shiro grins and turns into his arms, pushing Lotor into the wall and stopping mere inches from his lips.

“You’ve fallen for him,” Shiro whispers.

A tremor wrecks his voice and body as the knowledge cements between them and because Lotor’s hands know where to press to get Shiro going.

“Haven’t you?” Lotor retaliates, diving in for a deep kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic's philosophy: it needs to get worse, to get better.


	7. Different Plan

**7**

**_Different Plan_ **

This time it’s Lotor that comes to Keith, and it’s during one of his sessions with Thace. He doesn’t say or do anything, he just seems to appear out of thin air to one side of the training room. Keith is improving, but still not as fast as he’d like to. Thace keeps telling him to have patience with himself, which irks Keith even more.

“I wasn’t made to be patient,” Keith grits out as he rotates his upper body with his hands pushing back and forth as if he is wading through water, legs bend and moving too slow for his tastes.

He is soaked through because even if these moves appear simple and relaxing, they are anything but for his back. Besides, there is a restless energy building in his stomach, never one to like slow-motion.

“You can learn to be patient,” Thace adds, ignoring the seething undercurrent of Keith’s words and being more focused on how Keith executes the moves, correcting the body position that’s pushing too forward to relieve the strain on the back or the feet that drag on the floor when they don’t need to. “You need to give yourself time to heal, both physically and emotionally.”

Keith stops and glares at Thace. “I don’t  _ have _ time. They—“ But just then he catches sight of Lotor, leaning on the opposite wall. “I need to be ready.”

“What for?” he asks, not seeming to know that Lotor is there, but Keith knows not to be fooled by the faux indifference of the Galra by now.

“Missions.”

“You won’t be cleared for field work until I say you are fully recovered.”

The sternness in his voice is foreign to Keith, which makes him frown and backtrack mentally a bit. The strain on his back is too much so he straightens up and moves his weight from one foot to the other.

“I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

Keith blinks and glances at Lotor whose gaze is laser-focused on Keith. He doesn’t intervene in any way, and his expression stays blank.

“That… this isn’t your fault!”

Thace’s expression is impassable.

“I have only myself to blame for the state I’m in,” Keith says.

“I am not saying that I feel directly responsible for what happened to you,” Thace corrects, no emotion in his voice. “I am only making sure that next time you will be better prepared to handle such a situation with minimal damage to yourself.”

Keith’s eyes could be dinner platters. “So, what you’re saying is...”

“Keith,” Thace begins, an intensity in his gaze that hasn’t been there a second ago. “I would like to train you myself so that you can deal with as wide an array of situations out there as you can possible master in such a short time.”

“You… mean that I won’t be cut out from going on missions?”

Thace repositions his body towards Lotor, then looks at him. “If Emperor Lotor allows it, and if you’re fine with my proposition, no, you won’t be cut out from them.”

Lotor nods once, still staring at Keith. Hope froths close to the surface in Keith’s chest.

“But first, you need to focus on your recovery, otherwise I won’t be able to train you as you need to be trained. I cannot worry that I will injure you worse, because I won’t hold back and I won’t be forgiving, which is why you need to be at the best of your abilities to withstand such a harsh training.”

The prospect of widening his horizons and his combat techniques puts a sprint in his heart, mind racing forward with all sorts of scenarios and of made-up combat styles. He exhales softly, looking down at himself to get a good grip over his joy.

“Okay,” he says, then looks up at Thace and then Lotor, determined to see this through. “I will give it my all to recover.”

“Very well,” Thace says, then clasps his hands at his back. “Today’s session has finished. You are free to go.”

Keith nods and walks in Lotor’s direction just as he pushes himself off of the wall.

"Is something the matter?" Keith asks when he's a handful of steps away from Lotor. "Did something happen to Hunk? Shiro?" he continues when Lotor doesn't seem forthcoming with information.

"No," Lotor says and smiles a bit as he motions for Keith to walk out of the room, leaving Thace behind. "Nothing is wrong. I came to collect you."

Keith pauses when they're outside and frowns up at Lotor.

"Collect me."

Lotor nods. "I'd like to go over some things with you and Shiro." He pauses. "And talk about how to go about the diplomatic matter."

Keith sighs and starts walking. "I'm not sure this is a good idea, to be honest. I mean, you saw how I managed that conversation. I really don't have what it takes to be a diplomat."

"I disagree with you on that notion, because I know that you have potential."

"I might have potential, but probably not in this area."

Lotor didn't comment anything else on that account, and they walk in silence for the rest of the journey to wherever Lotor is taking him. In the elevator, though, Keith starts to fidget a bit, knowing that he needs to say those words otherwise he wouldn't be able to find peace of mind.

"I'm sorry for what I said the other day," he says, low and like he fights with himself to get the words out. "And for accusing you of things that weren't true."

Lotor doesn't say anything at first, but he glances sideways to Keith. "Apology accepted. My only regret is that I did not handle the situation better. I shouldn't have fallen prey to your anger-driven words so easily."

Keith turns to him and offers a hand, smiling a bit. "Let's promise to never do that again."

Lotor looks at Keith's hand and then at Keith, and mirrors Keith's smile, as he takes the hand, smaller than his, but offering a firm grip that almost matches Lotor's.

"I don't like it when we fight," Lotor says, staring at Keith with an intensity that has Keith take in a breath.

"I don't, either," Keith admits with a murmur, even as he feels Lotor's hand tightening a bit more in a way that it's felt when the other person is preparing to pull you to themselves.

Lotor doesn't, and they remain like that, staring at each other. Keith feels like they need to talk more about this, say things that they both seem to refrain from saying even though Keith is pretty sure that they're reflect in their eyes.

They reach their destination, which is a room similar to the one where Keith had been the first time he had to be "diplomatic", the only difference being the oval couch in the middle of the room, a white table with six chairs to his left and a wall-screen that showed the space. Shiro was on the couch, a mug in his hand and two screen-flexis on the small table in the middle.

He let his head fall back and smile upside-down at Keith.

"Hey, you," he greets warmly, and Keith can't not smile back and greet back, as he goes to sit near him (though not too near, considering his sweaty body).

Lotor takes a place on the other side of Shiro, so close they're almost touching. A flashback to them against the wall flashes through his mind, and he has to look at the screen to collect his thoughts and not plunge in the rabbit hole.

“Hey, Shiro,” he says quietly.

“I’d like to apologize for how I behaved the other day,” Shiro begins, straightening up in his seat a bit. “I admit I let my fears get the better of me,” he finishes with an apologetic smile.

Keith shakes his head. “No, you were right. If it helps, I let myself get taken away by my own impatience, so it was my fault that the conversation spiraled out of control.”

Shiro offers a warm smile and Keith has to lower his gaze to not melt on the spot at the display of open affection on Shiro’s face. His heart will fail him if he keeps getting it through all these strong emotions.

“How — how did it go afterwards? Did you manage to negotiate with them?”

“We did.” Lotor nods, a strange look on his face, not to mention that he seems to find Keith the only thing in that room worth looking at.

“What did you offer in exchange?” He ignores Lotor in favor of looking at Shiro as Shiro shares a glance with Lotor.

“We offered them first take at the flora we are bringing to Eskia.”

Keith lifts his eyebrows, considering the offer. He’s not sure what to think of it, still.

“Murali are chemists at heart,” Lotor intervenes. “They’ll most likely be interested in taking samples from it.”

“And you’re not worried that they might develop some chemical weapon that they could use against you?” Keith says, skeptical about all of that, considering how humans would exploit such an opportunity.

Lotor chuckles, and Shiro’s amusement is shown on his face, both reactions making Keith’s heart skip a beat. He wants to hear and see more of them.

“They won’t, don’t worry,” Lotor says.

“That does not appease my worries.”

“It might be hard for you to believe this,” Shiro says. “But Murali are a dedicated race to knowledge and the betterment of their society. They have no intention of conquering the universe. Sure, the possibility is still there, but they have come across weapons and opportunities far greater and more dangerous than this, and they never once acted on it. They certainly won’t start now.”

Keith studies them both, suspicion a three-digit layer on his face.

“You are way too optimistic about this situation, but if you say so.” He shrugs, not in the mood to debate the many ways that can turn around to bite them in the ass. “You said you wanted to talk to me about the diplomatic thing?”

“Yes,” Shiro says, placing the mug on the table near the screen-flexis. “We talked about how you behaved in the meeting and analyzed your skills and your personality to find the best way we could help you master this ability.”

Keith lifts an eyebrow. “I feel like I’m under a microscope.”

Shiro chuckles. “Nothing of the sort. But we needed to understand you better and the meeting reminded us a lot of the Syca war.”

Suddenly, Keith topples back on the battlefield, the stench of blood mingled with dust and anguished cries makes his stomach lurch. He swallows the bile and hardens his features to plow through this.

Shiro winces. “Sorry. That brought up unpleasant memories.”

Keith flutters a hand. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

Lotor’s gaze sharpens and narrows, but does not comment upon that, instead he elects to change the subject.

“The number one rule of a diplomatic talk is to make the other party bend and accept your requests or as much of them as you can. Not grab the first proposition they throw your way.”

“It’s a bit like bartering,” Shiro says. “The way Turks like to do in their bazaars. There is a price that you both know, but it’s not the final price. You need to negotiate that. Think about the aliens we contact as Turks, the only difference being that they are not satisfied with your offer, but are ready to lower their price if you offer something good in exchange for that.”

“And not all of them fold in after the first meeting,” Lotor says. “Most of them is an uphill negotiation that goes on for several meetings.”

“What if you need something from them but you don’t have much to pique their interest?” Keith asks.

“In that case” — Lotor smirks — “you need to turn the tides in your favor.”

“So manipulate the conversation or the other,” Keith concludes.

Lotor looks at Shiro with a pleased smile. “He learns so fast.”

Keith shakes his head. “I’m not good at that. I’m a soldier and a Fleet Admiral, but not— that. I can command a legion, concoct strategies and think on two feet. But I can’t manipulate someone into doing my bidding.”

“Some things need practice,” Lotor says.

“I think that some things can’t be mastered if you don’t have already something in you that facilitates that, even with training.”

But Lotor is serene. It doesn’t seem to bother him.

“You already have that something in you,” Lotor says.

“I’m a straightforward person,” Keith says, forcefully, as if Lotor is narrow-minded and can’t  _ see. _

Lotor and Shiro exchange a glance, then Shiro moves forward.

“You aren’t, Keith,” he says and Keith feels incredibly insulted by that for some reason. “It’s your perceived image of yourself that makes you think that.”

“So what? You’re saying that I’m a manipulative—“  _ asshole _ is on the tip of his tongue, “person?”

Lotor’s smile sharpens as if he knows exactly what Keith wanted to say.

“Not quite,” Lotor says. “But you’re getting there. I just want to speed up that process.”

Speeding up the process meant for Keith to be back in boot camp and learning each day to use a different weapon and then being given a test that encompassed as many combat situation as the weapons at his disposition: the trick was to use the best weapon for a determined situation otherwise he would fail the test.

He hates that Lotor makes his brain come up with a plan in which he can use this skill that they say Keith already possesses but it’s underdeveloped.

“Fine,” he says, meeting every gaze. “I’ll take you on. I still don’t believe you, but if by the end of this I prove to be what you see in me, then you win.”

“What do you have in mind?” Shiro says.

Keith smirks lopsided. “You’ll see by the end of the week.”

Lotor looks at Shiro. “Week?”

“Movement,” Shiro tells him, without taking his eyes off of Keith.

“Very well.” Lotor nods.

“Is there anything else I need to know?”

“In a diplomatic talk,” Lotor begins. “There is part negotiation and part manipulation. You need to know how to balance the two in such a way that the other person to not be aware of it.”

Keith nods and goes to take a well-deserved shower.

 

***

He’s still not sure how to go about his plan five minutes into the shower, the rainfall dimming the world around him but amplifying the thoughts and doubts. How does he go about this? Does he do it straightforwardly or would it be better if he were subtle about it? Does one strategy work with them both? Who’s the first he needs to start with? Or more likely the one he has to practice on.

Drying himself off, he decides on another course of action that slightly deviates from his original plan. He doesn’t encounter either Shiro or Lotor on his way to the room he uses to train with Thace which isn’t quite a relief because now he’s curious as to their whereabouts, to what they might be talking about him when he’s not in the room.

“Keith,” Thace says as they almost bump into each other, Thace exiting the room and Keith making to enter. “You are not scheduled for training for another twenty vargas.”

“We aren’t,” he says. “I’d like to do a special session.”

Thace pauses and regards Keith with assessing eyes which makes Keith sigh.

“I’d like to talk to you,” he admits. “In there.”

This time, Thace removes himself from the doorway to admit Keith inside. Keith being Keith, though, he doesn’t start right away with what really bothers him, so he gets into the ready position to execute the flowing moves he’s been practicing for days on end. Thace mirrors him without a word.

“How’s your spine?”

“It’s good. It says hi.”

There’s no change on Thace’s face at the joke as they continue to go about in a slow circle, limbs executing the equally slow movements with practiced ease from both parts.

“Do you do the stretching and breathing exercises before going to—“

“Yes. Every night and morning I visualize my spine healing itself. I even do that in the shower.”

“That might be taking it a bit too far.”

Keith huffs, eyes filling with mirth. “Afraid I’m gonna slip in the shower and die?”

“It is a high possibility, yes.”

He shakes his head, and brings his arms over his head in wide arcs, breathing in and holding it, the image he pictures every evening and morning appearing in his mind: the last vertebrae of his spine stitching themselves together, everything emitting a golden light. He didn’t quite choose that last particular, it just came to him like that.

“Do Shiro and Lotor come to talk to you about me?”

“No, they do not.” There goes Keith’s opening. “Although…”

“Yes?”

“Commander Shirogane has come once, after your first session, to make sure that I knew what I was doing with you.” Thace’s face shifts, and it takes Keith a second to see the shadows of a smile painted all over his face.

Keith snorts. “I’m not made of glass.”

“They don’t think that you are,” Thace says, just as he lunges forward, which has Keith’s instincts and muscle memory kick in and bend him backwards.

There’s pressure on his lower back and Keith grunts in pain as he relieves the pressure by rotating his upper body to his left. Because of the inertia, he has to prop himself in his hands, which allows him to use his right leg to try and kick Thace’s stretched arm.

Of course, he catches Keith’s ankle and they pause like this for a second or two before Thace pushes Keith’s leg forward and Keith has to tumble backwards and into a crouching position. He’s breathing excessively hard at this point, which irks him. This should’ve been easy. This  _ was  _ easy. Before.

“Your back?”

“In pain,” he says, grimacing at his hands splayed on the mattress. “But it’s bearable.”

He suddenly tumbles backwards and uses the momentum to push his legs up at a 90 degree angle, the muscles in his arms straining to put force behind the spear-thrust, and for a second his back doesn’t hurt, suspended as it is. But then it connects with Thace’s forearm and the shock reverberates all the way to his spine and he grits his teeth to not cry out from the pain, but sounds of distress still escape.

Thace is swift and efficient, with the forearm block Keith’s attack, he uses the other one to deal a light forearm blow at the back of Keith’s knees which breaks his straight body line and makes him fold in.

“You are not made of glass,” Thace says as he side-steps around Keith. “But you are not made of luxite, either. If you want to return on the field, then you need to double your efforts, grit your teeth through the pain.”

“You’re the one who told me that one-hour long sessions a day were enough for me.”

“I was wrong.” Keith turns his head and lifts an eyebrow at that, still retaining his crouching position. Thace continues, “we are not Zarkon’s Galra anymore.”

“It’s showing.”

“From this tick on, your training sessions will be prolonged.”

“Don’t you need to take that decision to your emperor and commander?”

“I do not. As long as I do not injure you further, I am free to do everything in my power to help you regain your flexibility and learn new techniques.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“By first teaching you how to help yourself.”

“I’m not sure there is a way to do that, if I don’t want to help myself.”

“That is why I am going to make you want that,” Thace says matter-of-fact, taking a more rigid stance. This was going to hurt. “You cannot have Commander Shirogane protect you forever.”

That bristles something in him.

“He  _ doesn’t—“ _

It clicks.  _ That’s  _ what he needs to do to start his plan. And the person he’s going to start with.

But the thought is pushed at the back of his mind as Thace charges at him by doing a side-flip, and Keith has to cross his forearms to block Thace’s shin from connecting, but that has the same effect as his last attacks and he cries out in pain. He doesn’t relent, though, keeping himself on one knee as the other — bent — provides support and balance. But as the pressure increases, so does the back pain, and he has to deflect the leg so that he can take a break.

Soon as he does so, he catches the sight of an opening and twirls himself on his knees until he can stretch his leg to connect with the one that supports Thace’s body as the other one is still in the air. He expects Thace to fall, but he doesn’t even move when Keith kicks at his ankle.

“That would’ve worked, if you weren’t so afraid of pain.”

“I’ve been in worse pain.”

The fact that the pain he’s talking about had been mostly emotional is a detail he does not reveal.

“Then kick as if it’s the only thing standing between you and sure death.”

“That’s not how I work.”

“It is not, but fights are never clean or noble.”

The carpet protecting the soft mattress underneath looks rough and resilient just like those three Galra looked when they caught Keith in the middle of the battlefield, covered in grey blood and filth, breathing so hard it was the only thing his ears were hearing. Two came from behind while the third one distracted him by charging straight forward. He parried the sword with his, but one of the Galra behind kicked at the back of his knee and he fell down to one as his helmet was ripped off of his head, leaving him exposed. The sparks flourished as the swords pushed against each other and glided in opposite directions.

There were Galra words spit by the one behind him as the one in front grinned an ugly grin, bloodied red.

_ “You will be the next to fall.”  _ The English caught and twisted in his mouth, a tongue not accustomed to other languages but its mother tongue.

He screamed in pain as one of the Galra behind dealt a swift cut to his side and the one before him planted the hilt of his sword to the side of his head, taking him out.

He blinked away the memory.

“Have you ever fought Lotor or Shiro?”

Thace concedes the break by adopting a more relaxed stance, though from his experience he knows the Galra would be prepared to fight back at a moment’s notice.

“I have fought alongside the emperor and once as a sparring partner to our commander.”

“So you don’t really know how it’s like to be on the other side of their blows or sword.”

“Do you?”

“No.” He lifts himself up with difficulty. Thace doesn’t help him. “But like you, I have fought by their side.” Keith pauses, assessing Thace. “Did you ever consider that Lotor wasn’t fit to be an emperor?”

“Am I on probation for something?”

“Mere curiosity.”

“That’s what Commander Sendak offered as explanation when our emperor came to power and I was asked a similar question.”

“But I’m no commander, nor of Galra origins.”

“Yet you wield a sword that responds only to Galra blood and you are an admiral on your planet. You command a fleet, am I correct?”

Keith grimaces at that, averting his eyes, not taking into consideration the first part. Too soon he came to despise that title, because too soon it was awarded to him. Maybe Captain Iverson had been too fast to give such a title.

“It doesn’t compare to your fleet.”

“However, by the human standards it is quite an impressive fleet.”

“That has nothing to do with this conversation.”

“Do you consider yourself fit to rule that fleet?”

“I ask myself that every waking minute.”

“Then you might understand Emperor Lotor better than any of us. And it is a possible answer to your question.”

His irked expression morphs into one of surprise, not unlike that of people who consider the Earth flat and are proven wrong.

“You already had the answer to that question,” Thace states, his gaze laser-focused. “This is a lesson for you: don’t ask questions to which you have a pre-conceived answer. You will be disappointed.”

Keith lowers his head.

 

***

He finds Shiro in the training room. It’s been a while since they last met each other there. Shiro’s metal arm is laying on his lower back as he does push-ups with the flesh one. There are grunts filling the silence of the room and when he finishes and pushes himself up he meets Keith’s gaze with something akin to surprise.

Keith throws a stick at him and he catches it not with the flesh arm. Keith smirks and widens his stance.

“No, I’m not sparing with you, Keith. You’re still recovering from your injury.”

“I’m not that weak.”

Shiro shakes his head and lowers the stick to his side.

Keith narrows his eyes even as his smirk remains present. “Afraid you’ll break me?”

The taunt is so bold and rough that has Shiro narrow his eyes in suspicion. Keith does the come hither sign with his hand as he twists the stick in the other one at his side. Shiro doesn’t move, but doesn’t let the stick go either, so Keith attacks him lightning-fast and Shiro parries as if his intention had been to fight all along.

“I’m sure push-ups, dummies and robots don’t cut it for you,” Keith says as he continues his attacks, sometimes using his stick, other times feinting with a punch, all of which Shiro blocks without difficulty. “It’s not enough. Not for you, a hardened soldier. Always ready for battle. Tell me, he doesn’t let you go on missions, does he?”

The punch he delivers that breaks Keith’s stick in two and the surprise on Shiro’s face, has Keith confirm the answer to that question. Thankfully, Shiro stops just inches before his fist collids with his face, otherwise Keith would’ve had a broken jaw and a hell of a concussion on top of his almost healed spine.

“Why did you do that?” Shiro says and it’s frustrated even though he goes at great lengths to temper himself down, but the harsh breathing lets the sentiment trickle down in his words.

“Do what?” Keith asks, inspecting his halved stick, then putting the two broken ends together to see the distinct jagged line.

Shiro whips his head up to look at him. “Rile me up.” And Keith actually manages to look Shiro straight in the eyes without giving anything up from what he’s thinking.

“I only spoke about things that we both know are true. There was no reason to feel like that.”

But he doesn’t wait for Shiro to reply as he trails towards the door, the two sticks in one hand.

He counts this as a first victory.

The second time they meet in the span of a shower and dinner is actually in the little conference room he had been in the first time he talked to Hunk. This time with a holo-map alongside Hunk’s hologram. It’s Hunk the one who acknowledges Shiro first, even though Keith has been aware of his presence the moment the door opened.

“Good evening, Commander Shiro,” Hunk says and he sounds like he tempered his hand from going up in a military salute.

“Just Shiro is fine.”

“Good luck with that,” mumbles Keith, too concentrated on the map as dots move around and he glides planets after planets.

Shiro takes a place down on the floor opposite of Keith.

“What are you looking for?”

“Carbon-based planets with a high density of a light metal called aluminium,” mutters Keith.

“We’re having problems with our containers, so we need replacements for this and that, you know?” Hunk says with a bit of a titter in his voice. 

He had never been good at controlling his nervousness around higher-ups. Or strangers in general. Keith doesn’t need to look at Shiro to predict his next thoughts.

“Lotor’s too busy to deal with this,” Keith supplies, then looks up at Shiro. “So I’m going to find a planet and then go extract the metal so that they can work it into whatever piece they need it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m in a good enough shape to withstand such a mission. Besides, I won’t fight anyone.”

“Thace hasn’t cleared you for field work, and even though this does not imply you engaging in a fight, it’s still  _ field work. _ How are you going to transport the metal to your pod?”

“Um…” Hunk tries.

“You need at least another person with you there.”

“Um, actually…”

“And still, you shouldn’t go even if someone does accompany you.”

Keith had been watching Shiro this whole time, patiently waiting for him to stop, ignoring Hunk’s unhelpful and rather without result attempts at interrupting Shiro.

“I will go and Hunk has offered to go with me. Most probably either Narti or Zethrid will accompany us for an extra layer of protection, if that’s what worries you.”

That shuts Shiro up as effectively as if Keith slapping him would have. A pang of guilt washes over him at that, not intending to make Shiro feel so bad about it. But he already went about his original plan to make Shiro and Lotor fall for him in such a roundabout way that he’s not even sure how and what to do to reach a conclusion. Not taking into account the fact that he was already starting to doubt that he’d be able to make these two people fall in love with him. Maybe he had been too preposterous in thinking that he could manage such a thing.

“Maybe… maybe let’s not rush into things, okay?” Hunk intervenes when the silence stretches on for too long. “Perhaps it’s best if you let us go and do this, Keith. There’s no need…”

“There’s no reason for me  _ not  _ to be there,” Keith says nonchalantly, though his razor-sharp gaze doesn’t leave Shiro’s.

Shiro, though, looks at Keith as if he tries to understand what he did wrong because this Keith doesn’t fit into the image he made of him. Good. He was going for confusion and he got it.

Shiro shakes his head. “I know that you’re stubborn, but this… this goes overboard.”

“I’m still going,” he states, calm and final.

Shiro doesn’t say anything for a minute and then stands up and leaves. Keith has no idea what to make of that, though he has an inkling as to where it might lead to.

 

***

Three more days pass and Keith doesn’t manage to do much on the manipulation plan mostly because he seems to go wrong about it. Now he has a Shiro who is keeping a bit of a distance from him and a Lotor who saw through his ploy even before Keith had time to take the first step.

“How do you suppose you’ll manage to win us over, if you keep yourself so wound up?”

Keith blinks his surprise at Shiro’s candid question. He pushes the flexi onto the floating black metal that dubs as a circular table, and twines his fingers above the gap of his parted legs. The fact that they both seem to have known about Keith’s feelings from the very beginning makes Keith’s heart skip only a beat before Keith’s brain calibrates and forms a new plan.

“This is not about how to be a diplomat anymore.”

“It is not,” Lotor says without any inflection in his voice.

“My demons are mine to fight. I don’t see the reason why I should burden you with my past.”

Shiro and Lotor share a look.

“Then you don’t know how relationships work,” Lotor says, piercing eyes thrusting through his very soul. “Or rather, how a relationship with us works. Why do you think it’s taking you so long to get us to respond to you? I’m not convinced by the reasons behind your strategies.”

“We need more than conflicting actions and indifference,” Shiro says, gaze dark and heavy.

Keith struggles to keep himself still and expressionless. To do so, he inadvertently takes the position he does when his superior imparts orders.

“I’ll do better next time,” Keith finds himself speaking up, and his voice doesn’t echo the turmoil inside him, surprisingly. “I’ll change my tactics and be better than before.”

Shiro hangs his head, hands twining on his nape with a long sigh. Lotor only narrows his eyes and it’s ire that simmers in them, of that Keith is more than sure.

“This is not a battlefield or a competition, Kogane,” Lotor says as he stands up and stalks towards him. Keith keeps himself from flinching away. Lotor stops inches away from him and Keith fails to meet his gaze, and it’s not because he can’t raise his head. “I won’t sleep with a faded shell or a hollow mask.”

That brings forth a shift in Keith’s stoic expression and he can only widen his eyes as they stare unseeing at Lotor’s chest. It last only a couple of seconds as Lotor doesn’t shy away from using his hand to force Keith to look at him.

This brings him  _ way too close to his face _ , and for an instant — an undefinable and regretfully short instant — Keith expects Lotor to kiss him. Alas, the situation is vastly different.

“If you want us to sleep with you, you need to give up being so uncouth.”

With that, he, once again, leaves the room with a flurry, steps heavy on the floor. Keith has to make efforts to regain his balance. He suspects this is how small planets feel like when they don’t succumb to the gravitational pull of a larger one anymore and are left to spin adrift in space, lonely and cold. He cannot move a muscle if his life was under threat; the shock short-circuited his brain entirely.

“We don’t want a perfect human,” Shiro says, voice soft and gentle. “We just want authenticity and reciprocity. You need to understand that we’ve cared about you since the Syca war. You already proved your skills and sharp mind to us.”

He stands up and walks over to graze the knuckles of his flesh hand over Keith’s cheek, first physical contact in  _ weeks.  _ Keith is lost in the sensation, fighting against the eyelids that want to slid shut of their own accord. This is not the place, nor the time to give in to his hidden desires and irrepressible want, even though they know how he must feel in their presence (and outside of it.)

Shiro’s voice, when he speaks again, is made of cotton and Swiss chocolate, so perfectly balanced, yet so brazenly vulnerable. He cannot help but open his eyes and have his breath stuck in his throat at the wistful longing on Shiro’s face.

“What we want is to see more of the man who helped that lost Syca child. You are more than sharp corners and curves; you are more than a soldier. We want that.”

 

***

Shiro finds Lotor in their room, working silently on removing his suit, but with a certain tension in his shoulders and moves. Sighing, he closes in behind him and hugs Lotor, hard planes somehow molding over Lotor’s broad and sturdy back as if feeling the need to cover the Galra wholly.

"Are you okay?"

Lotor hums, neither affirmation nor denial. Shiro tightens his hold to draw his attention, and Lotor sighs and sags in his arms.

"I honestly don't know what else to say to him," confesses Lotor, the low, granite voice catching on the consonants. Shiro breathes him in, fiber, luxite and the body odor that defines Lotor, changing and never definable. "Every time I try to bridge the distance between us, he seems to push me away with more ferocity. I'm starting to think that he doesn't really feel anything positive for me."

Shiro opens his eyes and comes to stand before Lotor, one hand on his shoulder and the other one cupping his cheek. Lotor leans in, his arms coming to rest around Shiro's waist.

"That's not true, and we both know it. He has feelings for you, he shows them every time he's in our presence."

A wan smile curves Lotor's lips weakly. "Then why can't I get through to him? He feels both close... and yet so distant. Like— back then."

Shiro lifts his eyebrows questioningly.

"You mean the war?"

Lotor nods. "When he helped that Syca child."

They had both been covered in grime and blood and wounds, standing among deceased friends and foes, their muscles quivering from the effort and the pain. Keith had been at the base of the small hill upon which Lotor and he were standing, and they both watched how Keith crouched down to offer comfort to a crying Syca kid. At first a hand on his head, then a knee on the ground, then both thumbs drying away the tears, and then, when the Syca brought the slender hands up, finally he lifted the kid up in his arms, protective hand over his back and the kid’s face pushed into Keith’s neck.

It wasn’t the bravery and tenacity he showed on the battlefield that moved them. It was the gentle smile he bestowed on that child, the care he took to lift him up in his arms and carry him over to his mother. The broken look and quiet desperation when he looked at a battlefield awashed in grey and red blood.

“I still remember," — the memory played in Shiro’s mind — "what you told me that day while we watched Keith trudge towards the Syca shelter.”

“Mm?” Lotor nuzzles Shiro’s palm, leaving soft kisses behind.

“You said,” Shiro begins, flesh fingers caressing Lotor’s cheekbone, raising goose bumps.  _ “No loss was in vain. Not a single one.” _


	8. Vulnerable

**8**

**_Vulnerable_ **

Things don’t turn out the way Keith envisioned they would. He certainly never would have thought that Shiro and  _ Lotor _ would go on the mission  _ he  _ should have gone. It’s such a stupid situation that he’s about to climb up the walls from how angry and worried he is. Especially after overhearing the conversation between them and one of the Galra operatives.

It takes them seven hours to fend off the enemies and take the metal they came for. It takes Keith two minutes to intercept Lotor. He knows where Shiro is. He heard the updates.

He wants to punch the Galra; wants to shake him so hard that he’d admit to how stupid they were to go there instead of letting Keith do it. Instead he just crashes his fist into the wall, the vibrations of the impact reverberating along his arm, pain blooming like a merciless flower.

“Why did you keep me here?” He’d be able to crush rocks between his teeth at this point. The muscle jumps in his jaw. “You could’ve spared this, if you would’ve let  _ me  _ do what I intended to do!”

Lotor smiles, the kind of smile that’s a little bit sad and a lot tired.

“We weren’t always commanders.”

Keith blinks. There might be some problems with his brain and reading between the lines, because that wasn’t the response he was expecting.

“What— what’s that supposed to mean? What the fuck, Lotor! You kept me here so that you could get yourselves nearly killed?”

“I’m not obliged to answer to you.”

And he makes to leave, but Keith rounds on him and places a fist into his chest. Not hard, just enough to be felt as an opposing force.

“Yes, you are! Yes, you need to answer to me!”

“Space Fleet Admiral, move.”

“No.”

Lotor’s glare meets Keith’s and the magnitude of the animosity growing by the second between them could materialize at any point now.

“It was a mission that went haywire. I could not prevent the casualties. Now move.”

It was supposed to be just an extraction mission: go there, extract the metal and be on their way back. But the planet Keith chose apparently had life forms that were covetous of what they had. At least Hunk had not been on that mission either because somehow Zethrid had become really protective of him — or the humans on her ship; it was hard to make out what was going on on the Gladiator — or because Lotor didn’t let him. Like he did with Keith.  _ And continues to do. _ It drives him bonkers.

“You could not— you fucking left me here when I could’ve helped you!”

“Both of us unanimously decided to leave you behind. Get over it, Admiral.”

“Both— you’re the fucking emperor to the entire universe and Shiro’s your second-in-command, and you just decided that it’s worth risking your lives on such a mission? How does that make sense?”

“You are more valuable than you think you are.”

“And Shiro isn’t?” His voice rises with each word. He’s losing it. “He’s just a pawn in your political games, is that it? Tell me, is he just your fuckto—“

Lotor’s hand closes over Keith’s wrist like a vice, the stranglehold making Keith wince. His thunderous gaze has Keith backtrack mentally, because he looks like Keith’s threading a thin line and Lotor wouldn’t be above slapping him if he continues.

“Do not talk about something that you do not fully understand.”

“You’re not the only one who loves him!” he shouts, voice breaking, his entire being crumbling to pieces.

Lotor doesn’t even blink. “That is neither here, nor there. You are an outsider, someone who came here to maintain an accord. That is all. So know your place, Admiral.”

That does not make the least bit of sense, but Keith’s mind is firing a mile a minute, waddling in a downpour of emotions that mess up with his logic.

“You’re so cruel,” Keith says, the tremor in his voice warning about something else. His temper rises again. “You know how I feel about you, yet you choose to shut me out completely. How can you do this and not feel— anything?”

It’s during this unexpected explosion of character that Keith sees it. Fear and anger and guilt and hatred— towards himself for getting Shiro injured or towards Keith, he’s not sure. It shifts so fast that Keith has to replay the imagine in his mind several times to realize what he just saw.

“I have nothing else to say on the matter.”

Keith crumbles into a heap on the floor as Lotor leaves the room, his stoic, rigid form burned behind his eyelids.

 

***

He’s afraid to visit Shiro.

He can admit to that.

After the nasty fallout with Lotor, he can’t muster the courage to face Shiro because this wouldn’t have happened if Keith didn’t choose  _ that _ planet for what they needed. But it’s so long he can postpone a visit and not raise suspicions. Not that anybody would come bang at his door and demand the reason why he hadn’t seen Shiro yet.

But nothing comes out of his mouth once he’s inside Shiro’s and Lotor’s quarters. He just stands there, a couple of steps inside the room and watches as Shiro stares vacantly at the window. There aren’t visible wounds, but Shiro’s skin looks paler than he remembers and there’s a quietness around him that is hard to get through.

“He stopped coming to our room,” he says out of nowhere, a weak smile on his lips. “I tried talking to him, but he comes up with this or that excuse. It’s… it hurts… so much.” His voice breaks and he shakes his head, trying to hide how much he keeps himself from crying.

But Keith knows that voice, those movements. He knows them intimately.

What did Keith do?

Seeing Shiro suffer so much from Lotor’s silence only makes his blood boil beneath his skin, and he wants nothing more than to go and confront Lotor on his stupid behavior and maybe drag him by the ear to Shiro. But their last conversation sails into his mind and he has to exhale softly and grip his turmoil tight to not have it spill over.

Lotor was right: he’s an outsider in this. There was never a place in their relationship for him to begin with. Now he wants to punch himself hard. How could he had ever hoped that they would— he could—

Never mind. Keith is used to this— distant caring. He had a father who perfected that. And a mother who was never in his life, so, really, love like this he had in spades. What’s more important now is helping them mend their relationship. If he’s not allowed to have them both, then the least he can do is see to it that they get back together. Love like theirs, with the soft looks thrown across a room, even softer smiles, implicit understanding of each other, comfortably inhabiting each other’s space like they had never been apart a second in their entire life— he hadn’t seen anywhere. That’s why he was so drawn to them.

But a broken human who doesn’t know how to love like that has no place there, right? In hindsight, it’s only fair.

“No, Shiro, listen to me,” Keith says, manning up and locking his feelings somewhere deep inside him. It hurts, but what alternative does he have? “This is not over. He’s just— passing through a rough patch, flagellating himself for what happened to you.”  _ Like I am.  _ But he locked his feelings away, okay? They’re not there anymore. “You are going to get him to open up to you, okay? Look at me. I’m going to help you with that. You deserve better than this cold silence and half-assed excuses. And he needs to be reminded of this.”

A teary smile worms its way up on Shiro’s face, nodding as he takes Keith’s hand between his. Keith lets him only because he craves this kind of contact with every fiber in his body, so he allows himself this last physical contact, like a farewell, before he gently pulls back and stands.

“I’m late for my physio with Thace.” Lies. Still several hours until then. “So I better get going.”

Shiro nods with a grateful smile, none the wiser, and Keith leaves, cogs working a mile a minute. This is familiar, this he can work with.

 

***

He wants them, now more than ever, but he’s learned something in the year during the Syca war and now in the weeks that he’s shared space with them: love is not about taking, but about giving. It’s time he gave them some of what he feels. He might not feel better, he might hurt because they’re already perfect the way they are and he’s been arrogant in his presumptions that they’d be better with him as a part of their relationship. How wrong he’s been.

Lotor is where he always is: on the main deck imparting orders left and right. Keith waits. When the emperor finally turns around (never let it be said that Lotor cannot make someone wait; Keith is hungry by this point), Keith has had time to mentally steel himself, but the braving Lotor’s cool gaze does not come easily to him. Their fight still pulses like a fresh wound within him and if there’s one thing Thace managed to drill into him is the mental power to decide what feelings get to be on the front and how to hone them to work with him and not against him.

“He stopped coming to me,” Lotor says out of the blue, as if this is exactly what their relationship is based on: confessing the misery to each other. Keith lifts an eyebrow because this is déjà-vu in all its glory. “He used to try and talk to me. Now it’s just silence.”

Maybe the horrible argument they had was just a dream or a conjuring of his mind, if Lotor opens himself up to  _ Keith _ of all people.

“And that’s stopping you from going to him?”

He goes along with this; see where it takes them. But if the answer to that is an affirmative, Keith swears he’s going to take a ship and fly back home right that instant.

Lotor frowns. “No, no. Of course not. I always go after what I want no matter how big or small.”

A twist of something happens in Keith’s chest and a thought blooms unintentionally. He wishes he were something that Lotor wanted in his life so much that he’d come after Keith. But their last argument made it clear where Keith stands, and what Keith does right now is honor a promise he made to Shiro.

“But maybe Shiro wants some space,” Lotor continues and Keith can’t make out what expression is on his face.

“And maybe you’re dumber than I thought you were.”

That garners Lotor’s glare. “You don’t know Shiro the way I do.”

“I know.” He does. It still stings to hear it from Lotor, so he doesn’t look at him to see the pained expression on his face that buries the glare into the depths of his soul. “And that should tell you that Shiro is suffering from your absence.”

Keith sees, in the periphery of his vision, how Lotor takes a step towards him and then stops.

“Excuse me,” he says, and Keith’s mind locks on the soft breeze that trails after Lotor as he passes him by, which is as close as they will ever be from now on.

He exhales and thuds his head on the wall, closing his eyes.

The tears won’t come.

 

***

“He helped me—  _ us _ mend our relationship,” Shiro says and Lotor closes his eyes as if he’s in deep pain. “He uses those skills we kept pushing him to use better when it isn’t him in the center of attention.” Shiro’s silently crying and Lotor is there, cradling his face between his hands as if he’s a fragile thing.

It breaks Lotor to see — what he came to consider — his soulmate like this. But it breaks him harder to know what Keith did. Shiro leans into Lotor’s touch, Lotor’s embrace, allowing himself this. Allowing himself to let his feelings roll off in liquid form. He needs this kind of release and Lotor’s heart constricts with both the old delight that Shiro feels safe enough with Lotor and trusts him enough to let himself be vulnerable in his presence, but it also hurts Lotor that Shiro’s feeling so much emotional pain that he has to cry to release it.

“Why is he still refusing us? I don’t understand. I thought he— he felt the same.”

The hard truth sits uncomfortably and scalding on Lotor’s tongue. He has no easy way out of this.

“He does,” he murmurs.

“Then why.” Shiro frowns, looking at Lotor as if he could find the answer he’s seeking on Lotor’s face.

Not quite, but he’s close enough.

“It’s my fault,” Lotor says quietly and doesn’t meet Shiro’s gaze that becomes more pointed.

“What did you do, Lotor?”

He draws back and Lotor lets his hands fall down in his lap uselessly.

“I told him that he didn’t belong in this relationship and that the only reason he’s on this ship is because of the acco—“

Shiro bolts up as if Lotor transformed into a scorching hot wire in the meantime.

“Are you stupid?” There’s ire in his voice, but also despair. “Did you forget how to read people? Or did you deliberately turn a blind eye to what was happening around you?” He lets that sink in for a bit. “Because Keith has been holding out a torch for us probably since the Syca war. Don’t try to fool me into thinking that you didn’t see how he looked at us.”

Lotor doesn’t say anything, eyes downcast on Shiro’s metal arm. He deserves those words. Every single one of them. This is on him and his prideful ass.

“Do you know what pisses me off the most in all of this? That you knew— we  _ both _ knew about his feelings, yet we chose to play stupid games and dance around the subject. We wouldn’t have been in this whole stupid-ass clusterfuck if we were honest with each other from the get-go.”

Shiro breathes heavily and when Lotor looks at him, there’s a flame dancing in his eyes, angry and dangerous.

“Accord with Earth, my ass,” he seeths. “It was all a ploy to get him to be with us, though it was his leader that put him on a silver platter for us. Now I’m even more mad that we didn’t come out and ask for a marriage contract with him like Kolivan got the deal cut out for him.”

“I’m not sure Kolivan is happier with his arrangement, considering who he is bethro—“

Shiro’s dark gaze stops that train of thought faster than a threat to his own life would have.

“Why did we dance around the subject? Tell me, Lotor. Why?”

“Well, he hasn’t been forthcoming either so—“

Shiro grabs the front of his suit and drags him to Shiro’s level.

“You’re a goddamn emperor and I’m a goddamn commander of your fleets. What the fuck stopped us from making our intentions clear? We’ve had him on our minds since the war and now that he’s within our grasps we still fuck it—”

“Fear of rejection.”

At that, Shiro blinks, caught off-guard, and releases Lotor, blowing off steam with a heavy exhale. He hangs his head, in defeat, and Lotor gently gathers him into his arms.

“Are we that cowardly?” he asks, a thin line of notes.

Lotor’s lips crest into a weak smile. “When the feelings are strong, yes, even the most confident and brave can become cowards.”

“We don’t deserve him.”

Lotor catches Shiro’s chin and fixes him with a determined look. “We do. I still want him to be part of our lives despite everything that went down.”

Shiro traces Lotor’s lips with his flesh thumb. “I do, too. So much. I want to feel him in my arms, cuddle him between us, have you go down on him as he fucks himself on my cock.”

Lotor curses as he closes his eyes, savoring the rich image Shiro is painting in his mind.

“Your slutty side is showing, my love,” Lotor says, smirking at Shiro.

Shiro lifts an eyebrow. “I know what I want.”

They chuckle.

“I love you,” Lotor murmurs, focused on Shiro’s lips.

Shiro closes in the small distance, feeling the warmth radiating from Lotor’s lips.

“I love you, too.”

 

***

The call connects on the big screen without Zethrid or any other Galra operative doing anything. Not even giving Keith a warning.

“Keith,” Shiro says, concerned, finding his gaze in an instant. “Why did you leave our ship?”

Keith’s eyebrows lift a bit, noting at the same time that Shiro’s back to normal, if a bit impatient. Well, not really impatient, but there’s a quiet urgency in his tone that beckons Keith.

“I came to visit Hunk. I haven’t had the chance  to see him in flesh and bone since we left Earth.”

Not a total lie. But not a complete truth either.

“It would’ve been nice to let us know,” Shiro admonishes softly, and there’s a strange look in Shiro’s eyes; something that feels so familiar to Keith, yet he’s so afraid to name it.

“Sorry.” Keith still feels the pang of guilty in his chest at making Shiro even the slightest bit angry.

“Let us know if you need anything,” Lotor intervenes.

“Okay,” Keith says softly, not meeting Lotor’s gaze.

“We shall see you later, Keith.”

Just after they disconnect, it dawns on him. He chuckles to himself, which draws the attention of the ones nearest to him. What use does he have now of the knowledge that Lotor called him by his name, after weeks, if not months, of debating that subject?

Hunk remains quiet by his side as they make their way back to his work station, not before stopping by the mess hall and taking something to eat. He doesn’t broach the subject when they’re alone, each munching on a meat ball the size of Keith’s palm or drinking from their respective organic juice that tastes sweet, but has no other distinguishable flavor.

And Keith— Keith is mostly grateful that Hunk doesn’t press for details or anything, because he doesn’t know what he’d say if Hunk were to ask him anything. He himself has no idea what all of this means, where they stand, what will happen from here on. And, frankly, those are questions he’d like to ignore and not think about at all.

He’s sick of wallowing in his own self-pity; he needs something to take his mind off of things.

“So, what do I need to do?”

Hunk guides him through the process of placing the newly-cut and welded pieces of aluminium where they need to go. He discards his red and white jacket before he starts, cracking his neck and preparing himself to get shit done. They work side by side, in silence, seamlessly fitting under the huge tubes and in-between containers, always careful to not touch the glass, although it would take a projectile to break it. Behind the first row of containers there’s a conundrum of tubes of various sizes and colors, and Keith is baffled that Hunk knows his way around them and which tube where goes and what’s it for.

“I’ve always color-coded things I needed to do,” Hunk explains with the ease of someone who is used to have visitors and talk about these things, about what he does and how he does it. “If it’s something around my room, it’s based on how urgent they need to be done. If it’s for research, it’s based on either how many times I used a particular idea or source or the order in which they need to go into the paper. These,” — he waves his hand towards the colorful tubes — “are based on how old they are and how fast they deteriorate, which in turn is based on what kind of nutrients or chemicals transport to keep the plants alive.”

They step over the smaller tubes, caution making them probe the ground with the tip of their toes, before they slide the whole foot down.

“The red ones are the oldest and the more important ones, while the grey ones are the newest installed.”

“So the code will change after you replace all the red ones.”

Hunk nods. “It’d be useful to have tubes that change color as they grow old, but for now we use this system and, obviously, we keep a journal on them where we document each one so that we can discover or predict any malfunctioning.”

This is easy. He can do this. It even took his mind off of things, and as he follows Hunk deeper into the military-positioned rows of glass containers, he feels something he hasn’t felt in a long time: lightness of spirit.

It takes them an hour to bring the aluminium panels of three different sizes and another two for him and Hunk to screw them in place. By the time they emerge from the middle of the containers, sound travels towards them, but Keith dismisses it as other scientists talking and moving around.

They emerge from between the rows just as Keith’s heart sinks into his boots at the sight of what really is the source of the noise.

“My Lord,” Zethrid says, “I mean no disrespect, but you are stressing out the humans.”

Lotor lifts an eyebrow at Zethrid. Keith feels unmoored — adrift. Is he supposed to feel anything less confusing? It’s hard to shrug off and ignore Shiro’s gaze, so readily fastened on him, like a long-awaited warm blanket enveloping his soul. Keith takes off his dusty, oily gloves painstakingly slow, stubbornly focusing his attention on Hunk’s presence at his side.  _ Jittery  _ presence.

“Keith and Hunk do not seem stressed by my presence here.”

“I was not referring to them, sir.”

Hunk lifts a greasy hand. “I’m actually pretty stressed out right now.”

They’re both sweaty and covered in vaseline and any other oily substance that they managed to get on themselves. He sorely needs a shower and  _ more _ alone time, but it seems that the two people he isn’t in any hurry to see have other plans for him.

Or maybe they aren’t here for him, but on other business. He still hasn’t learned the lesson: he’s not the center of their attention, and considering his last conversation with Lotor — never will be.

“I ask that I be transferred to this ship for the rest of the journey,” Keith says without consciously thinking about it or rehearsing the words in his mind.

Hunk sucks in a breath. The gloves, now removed from his hands, are the only thing his eyes can focus on right now.

“No,” Lotor simply says.

“Why?” Shiro intervenes, and even if Keith doesn’t look at him, the frown expands in his voice.

Keith takes a breath.

“It seems only logical to me that I should be on the ship where my team is.”

“Your contract is with us,” Lotor says.

Keith meets Lotor’s gaze for the first time in a long while and doesn’t feel anger or any amount of the usual challenge — just defeat in the most basic and complete way possible. Hunk’s hand finds his shoulder and it startles Keith so much that he looks at him, his face shifting from confusion to sudden realization and then worry.

“The contract doesn’t mention any specific ship where I should be staying on, except that it needs to be under your command. So I’m free to choose.”

“Are you sure?” Shiro asks, and Keith’s gaze finds the floor. “Do you really want to stay here?”

He doesn’t answer because he doesn’t trust himself with a straight answer.

“Man,” Hunk says softly, and his expression morphs into pain, most probably because Keith managed to project how he feels right now pretty well. There’s no fire left in him to fight for what he wants. “Are you seriously considering staying here? I’m not a mind-reader, but they look like you just ripped their hearts into pieces.”

Keith’s hands ball into loose fists, the gloves in his right hand squeaking softly, resisting the urge to look at them.

“So this is it,” Lotor begins, a soft tremor in his voice. “This is where you give up? After all that you went through to get here, you just give up.”

He sees Hunk’s slow retreat, but thinks nothing of it, too distracted by the turmoil of feelings that Lotor’s words bring to life. After all that he went through with Lotor, he  _ still _ has this power over him? He wants to rip his guts apart and be rid of those treacherous feelings.

“You do— what?” Lotor continues. “You harbor feelings for two people for such a long time, you get to spend time with them and even try to get them to return your affections and then you throw in the towel at the first obstacle? Are your feelings that shallow that they cannot survive harsh words?”

How  _ dare  _ he utter those words?

“You told me I had  _ no place—“ _

But the words die in his throat when he realizes that Lotor is within arm’s length and he has to look up at him. His first instinct kicks in after the second it takes him to realize Lotor’s closeness, and he backtracks in an attempt to put distance between them, but Lotor is fast and he catches Keith’s wrist, effectively denying him any more space between them, but not imprisoning him.

“I know, and I deeply regret what I said then.” There’s earnestness on the emperor’s face, and even if Keith attempts to retrieve his wrist from his hold, it’s feeble and without much conviction.

There are conflicting emotions on Keith’s face— and then there are tears. This time he pulls his arm and Lotor lets him go, but he doesn’t move from where he’s standing as Keith brings both hands to his face to furiously wipe at the tears, angry with himself that he’s crying.

“You told me that I—I was nothing to you,” he says between hiccups and Keith gets a flash of Shiro in-between the tears that blur his vision, and he distinctly looks like every word out of Keith’s mouth is a knife to his heart. Lotor is not better. “You made it clear. How was I sup-posed to keep my p-pursuit when you rejected me? I care about both of you, so I can’t— I can’t go for one if the other rejects me. You are so per-perfect together, h-how could I ev-even think ab-bout getting b-between you?”

Lotor falls on his knees, pain visible on his face. “I cannot go back in time and change how I behaved with you. I can only ask for your forgiveness and an opportunity to mend our relationship, if you would allow that.”

“What are you doing?” Keith takes the few steps forward, horror on his face as he grabs Lotor’s shoulders and pulls, but he won’t budge. “You’re an emperor. Emperors don’t kneel,” he says, his voice strained as he looks around at the Galra present in the hall, his cheeks still wet from the tears.

Lotor smiles weakly. “What is an emperor without his loved ones,” he says, uncaring who hears, as he thumbs away the last tears falling from Keith’s eyes. “I wouldn’t be here with Shiro, if it weren’t for your help. He found it in himself to forgive me. Will you find it in yourself to forgive me and let us pursue you the way we should have done from the beginning?”

Keith’s shock petrifies his body for long seconds, even as Shiro comes closer, flanking Lotor, but not kneeling.

“I don’t just want to sleep with you,” Keith says, soft, braving Lotor’s gaze, even if he’s not able to control his own voice. “I want to be a part of your lives. I want to be a permanent fixture in it. I want to be the shield that protects you and the sword that fights for you, but I also want to be the shoulder you lean your heads on at the end of the day, weary and tired. I want to be there at your most vulnerable and at your most joyous times, the same way that I want you to be there for me.”

“Then are you ready to give yourself completely to us?” Lotor asks, a sharp flash in his eyes. “No masks, no bottling your emotions up?”

Here he hesitates, lips pressed into a thin line. This is more than he feels ready to bargain. He knew he would be required to give back the same things that he asks for, but he hoped that his words would distract them.

“I promise I’ll try.”

Shiro’s flesh hand touches Keith’s shoulder, a warm weight. “Do you want to be vulnerable in our presence?”

Keith takes a few controlled breaths to allow himself time to dispel the storm within. This is becoming harder than being equipped with only a dull-edged knife and charging alone towards an army of Galra.

“I don’t,” he says, old habits chastising him for being so blunt in his honesty. But small steps; he wants to prove to them that he is serious in his feelings for them. “But I want to try.”

Lotor sucks in a sudden breath and Shiro looks like someone just floored him, the sudden fingers digging into his shoulder attesting to that. Keith lowers his gaze, searching for something to say and dispel the heavy silence. He’s almost distracted by Hunk’s little sounds of surprise and delight he makes, but the two powerful men (in every way that counts) manage to keep his attention solely on them.

“I’m sorry that this is all I can offer now. I—“

“Don’t be,” Lotor says, barely above a whisper; his eyes rove over Keith, as if trying to decipher a code. “We can work with that.”

The tension in the room almost breaks Keith’s stillness; his training cannot kick his heart into submission the same way it does with his body.


	9. Alive

**9**

**_Alive_ **

His senses buzz madly all at once and he forgets how to think, how to coordinate, how to function—

“Breathe,” Lotor whispers in his ear.

It’s a command he’d very much like to follow, but there’s a very passionate, very eager Shiro attached to his cock right now. If it weren’t for Lotor’s broad front and strong arms supporting him, he would’ve made a very un-sexy impression of a jellyfish on their quarters’ floor. So unattractive.

He has enough presence of mind, though, to push one hand into Lotor’s hair, tangle his fingers in the white locks and pull gently, so that Lotor’s lips come down to sear hot on Keith’s neck. One thing is to imagine this happening, another entirely to have it done to him.

A hiss, a moan, hips buckling into the wet hotness of Shiro’s mouth. But Lotor’s lips on his neck are not enough, he wants more. And he voices that thought, but he doesn’t receive what he asks for. The huff is entirely amused, the teasing more arousing than annoying and— well, that is development right there, if Keith’s arousal deepens at being teased by Lotor.

Shiro pulls back, licking his spit-slicked and red lips, a hungry look on his face.

“Prepare him.”

Then he goes down on Keith in one motion and Keith curses to high heavens, his hips buckling, but the hands on them smooth the rough thrust. Lotor’s fingers caress his lips and Keith takes them in without thinking, sucking on them and making Lotor release a strangled sort of breath, his teeth worrying at Keith’s shoulder, and Keith loses control of his hips, thrusting erratically into Shiro’s mouth.

Shiro has no trouble taking that, but then the fingers in his mouth disappear and they find their way between Keith’s ass cheeks, prodding and circling the ring of muscles and Keith perks his ass up and widens his stance to allow Lotor room.

Lotor curses into his neck and Keith can feel the heat rolling off from his bulging crotch, his impressive cock throbbing in his pants. Now, Keith would like nothing more than to release that cock and take it into his mouth, but at the rate Shiro’s going and with Lotor’s finger probing in, he’s not sure he’ll last much longer.

Then Lotor places one hand over Shiro’s metal one to still his hips and the show of strength has Keith mewl pathetically between them as Shiro sucks harder, tongue twisting maddeningly along his length while Lotor thrusts two wet fingers into him and squeezes Shiro’s metal hand once.

It’s all Shiro seems to need as he pulls Keith’s hips forward and resumes the thrusts much to Keith’s vocally felt pleasure. His knees tremble from the waves of pleasure washing over him and they’d have probably buckled underneath him if it weren’t for their combined strength.

He isn’t even aware of it, but he relishes in the fact that he’s used in this way by the two. With as many months pining over them and thinking up ways to make them fall for him, he completely disregarded this deep-seated urge to feel owned like this, manhandled into whatever position they need him.

Vertigo spirals through him when they both pull out and Shiro spins him around to face Lotor. A gasp, and then the warm embrace of strong arms as his cheek rests for a moment on Lotor’s chest. He doesn’t have time to get his bearings because Shiro pushes the tip of his cock inside, a hot, wet rod that has Keith arching his back, mouth open to spill sounds of pleasure and—

Shiro’s metal arm encloses over the base of his length, cruelly putting a stop to Keith’s orgasm, and he keeps him there, grunting and moaning his dissent until Shiro’s two thirds plastered to his back, hot breath fanning over the patch of skin Lotor had been worrying not long ago. They stay like that for a minute, just breathing.

Keith has no presence of mind to even open his eyes as he lets his full weight in Shiro’s care, head resting on his shoulder, feeling his whole body pulsing like a furnace.

“You’re so perfect,” Lotor whispers, lips a hairbreadth away from Keith’s. “Doing wonderfully. That’s right. Let yourself go. We’re here. We’ll catch you.”

Lotor kisses him, not long enough to cut off the oxygen, but deep enough to feel the waves of arousal washing over him once again.

It helps that Shiro’s hand relents on his cock. It doesn’t help that now Lotor’s fondling his balls and Shiro starts to thrust in and out of him.

He moans. It’s the only thing he can do, as he gave up trying to control, to _think_ , some time ago.

Keith’s cock grazes Shiro’s warmed metal hand only because Shiro’s thrusting into him slow, but hard, and he doesn’t actively squeeze his length. The little friction he gets from it manages only to drive him crazy, pushing him closer to his orgasm and he hopes they won’t stop it again.

At this point, Keith’s not above begging them to climax, and he loses himself in the burn from his ass and the friction from his cock, the maddening ball massage Lotor’s condoning until — finally — the wave crashes over him and he spills himself over their hands and Lotor’s stomach with a silent cry.

He distantly hears Shiro’s grunt pushed into his shoulder as his contracting inner muscles make it harder for him to push inside, but then Keith relaxes, bones liquid, and it’s only because he’s between the two of them that he doesn’t get personal with the floor.

“He’s so perfect,” Shiro says, and for some reason it’s whispered. “I love you. _Shit_.” The thrusts become more erratic and Keith smiles as he feels Shiro starting to lose control.

He opens his eyes and looks at Lotor, whose expression should be immortalized so that Keith can have proof when he can make use of at least two brain cells to think that Lotor is _able_ to make such a face. He caresses his cheek, an impulse decision and Lotor kisses his palm, keeping his hand there, on his flushed cheek as he dives forward and kisses Shiro, a messy, too-much-tongue, kind of kiss, and Keith feels oddly comfortable pressed between their sweaty bodies.

Like coming home.

His cock stirs, wanting to go for another round, but having to wait a while to be at full capacity. As they kiss, and _good god_ they look like they’d be able to do this for hours on end, a memory filters through his foggy brain, a memory of a time when he stumbled upon them going at it against the wall. And then, the wish— the _craving_ to be between them.

He smiles sloppily, both aware of the way Lotor’s jaw moves under his imprisoned hand and the hand that’s making its way down between himself and Lotor. It takes a bit of wiggling, pushing back his hips and have Shiro moan into Lotor’s mouth (although he’s not sure if he provoked such a reaction or it’s Lotor’s kissing skills that did) until he manages to free Lotor’s cock.

He can’t help himself as he caresses it and now it’s Lotor moaning into Shiro’s mouth, hips thrusting forward, gliding over Keith’s still flaccid one. He sighs, closing his eyes and contracts his inner muscles around Shiro, which ultimately has them breaking the kiss.

“Getting impatient, are we?” Shiro breathes right into Keith’s ear and it’s molten lava pouring out of that gorgeous mouth of his.

Keith moans pathetically instead of giving a coherent answer, and before he knows it Shiro pushes his hips, slow and deceptively calm before he slams back and Keith cries out in pleasure.

“More,” he asks.

Shiro pulls his hips back so fast that Keith doubles forward with a gasp. Good thing that his reflexes still work so his hands grip Lotor’s hips to stop his fall (even though neither look like they’d have let that happen.)

“Suck him,” Shiro orders and resumes an unrelenting pace, hips snapping forward impatient and at short intervals.

God, the things coming out of Shiro’s mouth! Keith is having trouble getting his upper body to follow, but Lotor comes to his aid as he grabs himself and guides Keith’s head towards him.

Keith allows Lotor in, and Shiro sheathes himself into Keith and stops, letting him concentrate on Lotor for a while. He keeps his lips tight over the bumpy skin and Lotor’s breath stutters, then he grunts and curses when Keith stops a little bit over halfway down, the head of his cock hitting the back of Keith’s throat and making it convulse around it.

Once his saliva sluices Lotor’s length enough, he starts bobbing his head, slow at first to test the range and feeling, but after a bit he becomes more confident and starts experimenting with his tongue, not unlike Shiro did with him, and Lotor’s little moans are music to his ears as well as the aborted thrusts.

He knows that Lotor’s control hangs by a thread, and if not for that he’d have thrust into Keith’s mouth without reserve, but that doesn’t mean that Keith won’t play with his balls to entice him further. The hand in his hair clenches almost painfully.

Then Shiro starts his short thrusts again and Keith’s once again drowned in sensations, sometimes regaining his presence of mind and contracting his inner muscles as Shiro thrusts in which only makes him curse as his hips stutter and Keith would smile, but his mouth is otherwise busy turning Lotor into a moaning mess.

Still, the Galra seems to have enough self-control to not reach that point and Keith decides to let himself at the mercy of Shiro’s thrusts.

He’s half-hard by the time Shiro’s hips stutter and he empties himself in Keith, followed shortly after by Lotor as Keith quickens his playful moves with Lotor’s balls.

Somebody cleans him afterwards and they end up in bed, Keith spooned from both sides and if that isn’t heaven, then he doesn’t know what is. It’s the last thought he has before he’s being pulled into a dreamless sleep.

He comes to some time later.

The light in the room is the same. Maybe the constellation on the fake window is different, but then again, who had time to take notice of that when he had been so busy.

He opens his eyes and they’re both where he last remembers he left them, both with a flexi in their hands, speaking softly to one another about some kind of visit to a planet that they will orbit around in about two hours. From other bits of information he gathers from Shiro, he concludes that this visit won’t happen any time soon. If ever.

“I don’t want you two to go there,” Keith says, staring at the ceiling half-lidded because half of him still wants to sleep.

They both pause, taking Keith in, before they make peace with the fact that now Keith’s part of their discussion, too.

“It’s only to discuss terms,” Shiro says.

Keith is having none of that.

“If it’s just that then send some representative.”

“To show up in person,” Lotor begins, “is to show good faith and that we care about the trade.”

“Enough so that you step into an ambush?” Keith arches an eyebrow. “That’s a bit too much caring for something this little. You’re not going. Shiro got hurt already. So no.”

“Hey, that was nothing serious.” Shiro broods. “I healed fast.”

“That doesn’t mean that you, either one of you, couldn’t get hurt.”

“Why are you so adamant on us not going?” Lotor says, and there’s a quiet frustration towards the end of it.

Keith sits up and turns around to kneel between the two.

“Now you know how it feels.”

If there’s just a smidgen of vindictive pleasure in saying that, then nobody can fault Keith. He can’t quite stop the smirk as he looks at his— lovers. Yeah, he now can call them that both in his head and aloud. It feels so good.

They pause, blinking at Keith as if they’re not sure if they toppled into another reality or this is actually happening to them. Then Lotor kidnaps Keith’s hand and starts leaving little kisses in his palm which tickles and has Keith scrunch up his nose.

“You’re not manipulating your way out of this,” Keith says.

Lotor smirks, his half-lidded eyes somehow heating Keith up. “I’m not?”

He levels a glare at Lotor, even as Lotor’s slowly kissing his way up Keith’s arm.

“I mean it.”

“We also meant it,” Shiro says roughly into his ear and when the hell did he get to his side? “When we told you to not go on that mission, but you still did.”

He shivers when Shiro trails his fingers from below his navel all the way up to his collarbone where he replaces them with his lips. Keith whimpers, his body prey to the careful and purposeful ministration. He’s hard again and he can’t do anything but let himself be slowly drowned in attention and affection.

“So this— this is revenge?”

Lotor huffs over a patch of skin he just stopped sucking, right above the inside of his elbow, which elicits another shiver.

“We’re not that petty,” Lotor says. “Although we could.”

Then he goes straight for Keith’s nipple, sucking hard and making Keith arch with a surprisingly loud moan as his hand goes into Lotor’s hair, not pulling, but clenching hard enough to sting. A pleased hum ushers through Lotor’s nose, his mouth relentless on Keith’s nub. He keeps it between his teeth and the tip of his tongue laves it lazily, something that’s not helping Keith regain control over his brain cells or any kind of thought except the ones born from the want burning like fire beneath his skin.

The string of moans is abruptly stopped when Shiro aggressively turns his head towards him, the metal grip on his jaw strong, but not bruising, and kisses him as if he’s starving for it. He changes the position and hand, and brings the flesh one to support Keith’s head as Shiro pushes forward and Keith has no choice but to let himself be completely at his lovers’ mercy.

At this point, Keith surrenders to the idea that he will come in his pants without anyone touching his dick because when he does push his free hand towards that spot, Shiro catches it and keeps it between their bodies. Keith moans and whimpers as much as he can, brain a symphony of want and lust, but not so much that he doesn’t remember that his legs are free. So he pushes them up, thinking that he might get a bit of friction for his neglected cock, but Lotor isn’t having it.

He actually straddles Keith’s hips, his wet nipple feeling the rush of cold enough that Keith hisses when Shiro lets him go. He has a dribble of saliva flowing down the corner of his mouth which Shiro thumbs away and the only thought he has at seeing Lotor kneeling high and glorious over him is that he’d beg this Galra to let Keith suck him.

The glint in Lotor’s eyes and the subsequent darkening of his gaze alerts Keith that he might have said that out loud.

Lotor descends on Keith like a bird of prey, sliding down until his ass and most of the back of his thighs sit over Keith’s thighs. He doesn’t let all his weight on Keith lest his legs fall asleep, but the packed hardness in Lotor’s pants rubs slowly against Keith, which is definitely _not enough_ and hellishly maddening.

“Please.”

He tries to say, but Lotor’s hungry kiss feels like being incinerated from the inside out, and his free hands try to urge Lotor’s hips on, but Lotor catches his wrists and pushes them behind Keith, which promptly has Keith lock his abs to withstand the weight of Lotor’s strength.

It takes Keith a couple of seconds — being kissed like it’s the last time they see each other does not automatically mean that oxygen is getting to his brain as it normally would — to realize that Shiro had been working on freeing both their cocks from the imprisoning fabric, but he has no way of expressing his gratitude verbally.

He doesn’t need to, though, as a decisively wet — but warm — hand closes over their erections and both he and Lotor moan almost in tandem at the sensation, and Keith’s hips thrust upwards no matter how much he feels the burn in his abs and his thigh muscles. It’s not like he minds working his muscles _this way_. But Lotor’s hands are firmly pressing Keith’s into the mattress, at an angle that allows Keith to lean on them comfortably. For now. And he does, only to create more space between their upper bodies and break the kiss to look down between them at the two cocks: one big and purple with tiny bumps peppering it, the other pale and smaller, but no less aroused.

Not one among them is calm; they’re both breathing hard and making soft sounds. Then Shiro pulls Lotor’s head down and kisses him just as hungrily, and his hand falters until he finds a rhythm. Keith is panting, unable to decide which sight is more arousing: the cocks being pumped by Shiro’s flesh hand or the dirty kiss Shiro’s engaging Lotor into.

He decides that the latter wins, as it looks like their tongues fight for dominance, and he expects Lotor to use his hands to take control over the kiss (and his lover), but they remain firmly covering Keith’s.

He’s also not sure how they fare with the climax because Keith has been fighting against it pretty much since Lotor straddled him, but now with Lotor and Shiro basically trying to eat each other up, Keith is steadily losing the battle with his own orgasm. So he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, the picture his lovers make burned behind his eyelids, and he lets himself be pulled by the waves of his orgasm, panting and moaning, until a thumb starts to move over his head and his eyes open at once only to realize that he has two men whose attention is solely him, burning dark gazes drinking him in, and that has him topple over the edge without warning.

He’s followed shortly after by Lotor and together with Keith, they make a mess out of Keith’s stomach and trousers. Lotor brings Keith’s arms back with Shiro’s metal arm supporting Keith as he’s right to anticipate that he wouldn’t be able to keep himself up. This time, when Lotor kisses Keith, it’s slow and tender, and it feels like gratitude.

“A simple ‘thank you’ would have sufficed,” Keith says, a little bit winded, but smiling up at Lotor.

For his part, Lotor simply ducks in to take Keith’s lower lip between his teeth and pull until the lip escapes. Keith just chuckles and then looks at Shiro who’s smiling and flushed; just like the rest of them.

 

***

Shiro’s arranging his jacket over his t-shirt, the temperature in the hallway considerably lower than the one in their room and Lotor looks like he’d want nothing more than to push his lover into the wall and undo all his hard work. But someone’s coming up from their left, so he refrains. For now.

“Sir, these are the data you requested about the upcoming meeting with General Etr’ah,” a young female Galra says. “Do you want to use the Sincline or a standard sub-ship?”

Shiro watches as the flexi exchanges hands and sidles closer to Lotor to read the information.

“You know he’ll be mad at us if we go,” he says casually and Lotor glances at him sideways, a considering look on his face.

“How much until we orbit their planet?”

“Less than twenty dobashes,” she says.

Lotor scans the data on the flexi.

“Sir?”

He looks at Shiro and gives his answer.

 

***

It’s several vargas later that they return to their room, both a bit tired, but not enough that Shiro wouldn’t push Lotor against the wall as soon as the door closes behind them and kiss the hell out of him.

“I’m proud of you,” Shiro whispers and Lotor smirks, hungry for more and intending to get it.

But a soft sigh and shifting from their bed has them both freeze for a split second before they remember what a delicious gift awaits for them, though unaware of how precious he is. They both grin at each other and get rid of their shirts to join Keith.

He’s splayed on his stomach in the middle of the bed, face somehow burrowed under Shiro’s pillow while one arm is under Lotor’s. The satin covers hide only one bent leg, leaving the rest of his half-clad body a feast for their eyes.

Lotor’s hands caress Keith’s lower back and then they dip under the loose waistband of his pants and starts to pull. He grins at Shiro’s raised eyebrow, continuing his work until there’s no layer separating Keith’s skin from Lotor’s palms. He positions himself between his legs and caresses his lover’s runner’s legs all the way up to his buttocks where he kneads them for enough time that the pattern of Keith’s breathing changes as his lower half comes to life.

But Keith remains asleep, his hips shifting slightly to make room for his growing erection. It must be the fact that he feels safe in their room or because they exhausted him so deeply that this kind of movement or touch does not immediately wake him up. Lotor’s grin looks like it could encompass the world and not let it go, while Shiro’s expression grows suspicious.

“You’re not...”

Lotor nods, confirming his suspicions, so Shiro bites his lip and pushes away the pillow on Keith’s face.

“Then he needs to be more comfortable than this.”

“By all means,” Lotor motions with his hand, then returns it to knead Keith’s ass, every once in a while letting his thumbs brush Keith’s hole.

“He might wake up, though.”

“I’m taking my chances.”

With a sigh, Shiro proceeds to manhandle Keith gently. Lotor has to help him with the lower half, so that by the end of their careful ministrations, Keith is lying face down on Shiro’s reclined chest, legs straddling his lap.

 _“Fuck,”_ Shiro breathes out, flesh hand stroking Keith’s back slowly. “He’s so hard already.”

Lotor licks his smirking lips and spreads Keith’s cheeks just to have his tongue lave over his puckered hole. Keith stirs, thighs twitching minutely, but doesn’t wake up, so Lotor continues his teasing, both hands kneading Keith’s ass, and then his tongue pushes in, applying enough pressure for it to go in faster.

This time, Keith does wake up with a jolt, and he’d have pushed up if it weren’t for Shiro’s arms and shushing noises.

“It’s okay Keith,” he says. “It’s just Lotor.”

 _“Fuck!”_ he says, the word meshing into a moan that he exhales into Shiro’s neck.

Shiro, for his part, just kisses his temple, hands moving constantly over his back, neck and hair, and Keith’s hips start to move in tandem with Lotor’s slow, but powerful thrusts.

“How long — _hnng_ — was I as-asleep?”

“Mm, about five hours,” Shiro says, his hips molding over Keith’s thrusts.

“Shit, you’re so hard,” he moans into Shiro’s neck, close to his ear.

“You could fuck me if you want to.”

Breath catches into Keith’s throat as he pushes back enough to stare at Shiro who’s flushed and panting slightly. But even if this new revelation wants to make Keith’s body freeze, it’s impossible to do so when Lotor seems to do everything in his power to drive Keith crazy with that wicked tongue of his that with every thrust reaches deeper and deeper into Keith, which in turn has his own hips grinding down on Shiro’s hardness.

They take a moment or two to get Keith’s legs between Shiro’s, so that Keith can go along with Shiro’s idea.

He doesn’t ask Shiro if he really wants this because if he didn’t Shiro wouldn’t have suggested. Besides, he sees no reason why he shouldn’t do just that, so it’s a mad race to get Shiro’s lower half naked, too impatient to get the tee off. Shiro pulls Keith’s hand to squeeze a generous amount of lube on his fingers, which turns out to be his palm as one of Lotor’s hands started to play with his balls and Keith’s brain is a pan of scrambled eggs, so Shiro has to take control and guide Keith’s fingers to his hole.

He pants, stopping for a moment to take in the situation he woke up to, the feel of Lotor’s tongue in his ass (the struggle to not cross his eyes and push back, helping Lotor reach _that_ bundle of nerves that would have him come on the spot), Shiro’s spread legs, heavy-lidded and flushed face, their cocks touching every time Lotor pushes in and the barely-there friction drives both of them crazy.

“Hurry!” Shiro urges and it’s a keen sound, impatient and debauched.

So Keith hurries and thrusts in two fingers at once, pushing against the ring of muscles and trying to tell Shiro to relax, but too brain-absent to translate thought to words. Shiro knows this, so after a few circular movements, he relaxes with a sigh and Keith’s fingers push all the way to the last knuckle.

 _Then_ , the mad rush comes and he thrusts them in tandem with Lotor’s, and then adds a third finger and Shiro’s a mess of moans and keening sounds, and it all meshes together in Keith’s head, unable to keep track of anything at all, so he takes himself in one hand some indeterminate amount of time later, pressing his free fingers into Shiro’s thighs to steady himself and to bring Shiro’s attention back.

But Lotor’s tongue leaves just like that and Keith gasps at the rush of cold before a wall of burning skin plasters over his back and Lotor pants behind his ear.

“Do it with me,” he says and no matter how scrambled his brain is, Keith understands what he means.

He spreads his legs wider, Lotor’s hands firmly on his hips, and pushes his ass up. Lotor releases a string of clipped, gritted words in a foreign language and Shiro laughs, agreeing with him, but Keith has no time to ask what Lotor said because Lotor’s tip is there pushing at his entrance. So Keith’s cock does the same and they enter at a slow pace, both Keith and Shiro moaning low and for a long time as Lotor pants erratically into Keith’s nape.

 _“Holy shit, holy shit,”_ Keith says, bowing his head down until his forehead touches Shiro’s sweaty chest.

Lotor draws back, and Keith does too, and then he thrust in, long and harsh and they all moan and cry out, and before Keith realizes it, they settle on a harrowing pace controlled by Lotor’s strong hands and stronger thrusts. Keith just gives up on taking any kind of initiative and lets himself be used by Lotor to both fuck him and fuck Shiro using Keith.

The knowledge does something to his brain as he feels the oncoming wave so close that it takes Lotor four more snaps of his hips to have Keith come without a warning. As he spills himself into Shiro, Lotor speeds up, his thrusts erratic and all the more maddening and he feels the moment that Shiro comes as his walls tense around his softening length, pulling out a half-hearted whimper as Shiro cries out his pleasure and spills between their stomach and Lotor snaps his hips once, burying himself deep into Keith and, once again, touching that bundle of nerves (which pulls out a moan from Keith) and he climaxes too.

It’s so much that it dribbles out of Keith’s ass, coating his balls and the back of his thighs.

Keith won’t move if somebody paid him for the rest of his life. He collapses in a panting, sweaty heap over Shiro’s chest, his lower half powerless, so it’s Lotor who lets his hips down so that he can bring three wet towels to clean them.

He takes care of himself first and then moves to Keith, working gently and carefully, all the while praising Keith. Then, Keith musters up enough strength to move himself to the side so that Lotor can clean Shiro up too.

Keith’s so tired, he’d fall asleep like that if he closed his eyes as he sorely wants to.

“This is all your fault,” he says, not even able to pull out an annoyed tone of voice. “I’d have been awake and rested by now, ready to kick your asses for going.”

Shiro laughs and two walls of heat flank him. Okay, he wasn’t supposed to close his eyes. Somebody kisses his temple and somebody else his cheek. Then there are fingers in his hair and yeah, continue like that and Keith’s sure to fall asleep within the next five seconds.

“We didn’t go,” Lotor says.

“You should be proud of us,” Shiro says, and it’s teasing.

“I’d give you both blowjobs to show how proud I am, but first I need to relearn how limb coordination works.”

Both Lotor and Shiro chuckle as they pull up the covers and cuddle Keith.

“Sleep, my love,” Shiro whispers, nuzzling his temple. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Good incentive to wake up. I might give you that blowjob, if I wake up before you to return the favor.”

“So you won’t give us that blowjob if we’re not asleep?” Shiro’s voice is anything but innocent, and Keith desperately needs to kiss him for that, but he’s just _so tired._

“We’ll pretend to be asleep, so you can do whatever you have in mind,” Lotor offers, amusement coloring his words.

“Whatever I want, hm?” He’s grinning. “I like how that sounds.”

 

***

He’s fiddling with his bracelet at the table, accessing its memory and looking for bugs; Hunk sent him a tutorial so he can do it himself. It’s been — days (maybe) since he saw anything else but the interior of Lotor and Shiro’s quarters. And it’s not because they don’t let him out (although both brought that into discussion more than once, but it’s always been in a teasing manner — or in the heat of their lovemaking) but because he simply forgets to get out when they’re not around.

Well, not really forgets, but he doesn’t see any reason why he should meander outside. Thace is away on a last-minute mission and he doesn’t know when he’s coming back, so their fighting sessions are on hold until his return.

For now, Keith’s in loose pants and nothing else while Shiro’s reading something on his flexi and Lotor’s taking a shower. A week ago he’d have laughed at his brain for even suggesting such a domestic scene, but now it seems so natural.

It’s when Lotor gets out of the bathroom, naked except for the towel around his neck which he uses to dry his hair, and Keith looks up to receive a sloppy kiss from an angle, that something clicks in his bracelet and a holo-map appears.

“What the...” Keith says.

Lotor frowns and leans forward to study the map.

“Shiro.”

It’s all he says before he swipes his fingers over the map in Shiro’s direction. It takes Shiro a couple of seconds of tapping things on his flexi before the map is lit by the floor and ceiling little black dots so now that map is twice Keith’s height and thrice his body width.

“What is this?” Keith says.

Lotor doesn’t answer at first as he swipes the map to the left and then to the right, touches the red dots peppered here and there and information about each pops up in a rectangular window, but Keith doesn’t know the gibberish that it’s written in. It’s not Galra; that, he knows enough of. Shiro joins them, the same concentrated expression on his face and Keith’s getting a _little_ impatient.

“It’s a map,” Shiro says and Keith rolls his eyes.

“You know we use more or less the same map layout, right?” There’s more than a _little_ sarcasm in there. “What’s it for? What are the little dots?”

“Where did you get this?” Lotor says, turning towards Keith.

It’s Keith’s turn to frown and go inside his head to search for the information.

“When I fought the three —“ he glances at Lotor, a drawn in expression on his own face because he never forgot the war and the Syca battle, “— rebel Galra in the Syca shelter. One of them had a cube and when I took it, my bracelet accessed it and downloaded the data.”

Lotor considers that. “We have their mapper. The red dots are the active bases while the faded blue ones are inactive or abandoned.”

Keith frowns and swipes his finger left and right, taking in the sea of reds. “So many,” he whispers, but then he reaches an area that has a single dot. “Is this a city? It looks like it.”

“It’s Mraxis,” Shiro says, tapping the dot. “On planet Damex.” A significant something passes between the two and Keith feels like he’s left out of the loop.

“Did something happen there?” They both look back at the map. So something did. He sighs. “We should go and check. See what’s the situation there.”

“It’s their headquarters,” Shiro says, and his voice sounds distant and mechanic. “Every order comes from there.”

Keith turns and walks to the door. “Then all the more reason to go there.”

“Don’t you want to know?”

He looks back at Shiro. “What? That something happened on that planet? I did ask, but nobody came forth with information, so I reckon it’s a subject you two don’t want to discuss. It’s okay, I won’t force anything out of you two, if you don’t want to share.” He continues walking. “I’m used to secrets.”

A moment of suspended breath.

“It’s where Lotor found me.”

That has Keith stop in his tracks and turn around to search their faces. Shiro looks like he’d like nothing more than to talk about something else while Lotor’s shrouded gaze meets Keith. He waits.

“As you already know, Lotor rescued me from a nasty situation.” He moves his metal arm, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I was kidnapped while on a mission on Kerberos and brought to that base.”

Keith narrows his eyes, distantly recalling news of a pilot disappearing from a mission issued by the Japanese government.

“But that’s not all,” Keith says and Shiro shakes his head.

“They wanted to create a super-soldier, hence the metal arm, but before they brainwashed me completely, Acxa snuck me out and brought me to Lotor.”

“How did you know he was there?”

“He wasn’t the only one,” Lotor says.

That has Keith wobbling his way towards the bed and sit down heavily. Human abduction, really? Why is this happening to him?

Shiro comes to sit at his side, flesh arm gathering his shoulders towards his sturdy body to offer comfort. It’s such a paradox. It’s not Keith who should receive comfort right now. Lotor kneels in front of him, both hands warming his knees.

“You’re kneeling a lot in front of someone who’s not even of royal blood. And you’re naked.”

Lotor grins. “Royals do not kneel for other royals.”

“That’s a lie.” He huffs and smiles carefully at Lotor before he cups his cheek. Shiro places little kisses in Keith’s hair. “But thank you for saying that I’m special.”

The grin stretches even further, if that’s possible. “I never said such a thing.”

“Then you’re lucky that I know how to read between the lines.”

  
**—** **End Part II —**


	10. Pro Tempore (For The Time Being)

 

**— **Part III —****

****10** **

****Pro Tempore** **

****(For The Time Being)** **

 

He walks out of the bathroom and realizes that he needs to go to his room and pick up a change of clothes, but then again, he’s not in the mood to trek down the hallway in only a towel.

He stops when he catches sight of Shiro at the table staring back at him. For a second, he thinks the look on his face is a result of Keith being one towel away from being naked. For a second. Then Shiro shifts, metal arm scraping over the edge of the table as Shiro brings it to his lap.

“You said,” he starts, gaze traveling without a purpose or intent over Keith’s body, “after the Syca battle, that you wanted to go on missions because it helped you forget. What, exactly?”

He blinks, then shifts his weight on the other foot.

“War.”

Shiro’s eyes stop somewhere around Keith’s chest level, and then climb up until Keith’s looking Shiro in the eye. He has to lean his head back a bit to keep the eye contact when Shiro stops before him, and, suddenly, he feels out of his depth what with Shiro acting as if he were — a robot. Or something. His eyes widen when Shiro hugs him out of nowhere.

“Was the soulful staring meant to warn me of this?”

He’s channeling his inner Lance again.

“You’re not alone anymore.”

The murmured words into his hair leave Keith with no comeback at all. So the only sensible thing to do is to hug the man back and let himself take every ounce of comfort Shiro’s offering without input whatsoever. Just as Keith’s lulled into a cosy cocoon made up entirely of Shiro’s body, Lotor returns from who knows where.

“I must have missed the group hug message,” Lotor comments without any bite to his words.

Still, Keith tries to dislodge himself from Shiro, but Shiro doesn’t relent his hold. If anything, he tightens his arms as if afraid that Keith might disappear if he lets go.

“I was just telling Keith that he shouldn’t shoulder his burdens alone anymore.”

He keeps Keith plastered to his chest with a stubbornness that Keith finds strange compared to how Shiro’s behaved until their recent development. Now, don’t get Keith wrong: he’s in heaven right now, but he’d also like for Lotor to be a part of this, so he squirms, but to no avail.

“Did something happen?”

Lotor’s voice sounds closer, much closer than before, and then a warm hand covers his lower back.

Keith would like to turn his head towards Lotor, but he’s on the other side of the pale neck his face is pressed into. He tries to answer, though, but only garbled sounds and half-formed syllables get out.

“Shiro,” he manages petulantly, leaning his head back and glaring without much heat at Shiro’s ear.

This time he relents a bit, but only enough so that now Keith can see one side of his face.

“Nothing bad,” Shiro says, a lightness in this tone of voice.

He leans towards Lotor and the emperor happily kisses him. Then Lotor looks at Keith and places a soft kiss on the high of his cheek.

“That’s so chaste for you.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “I apologize for giving you the impression that I was a lewd emperor who couldn’t wait for the quintent that he’d get his hands on you.”

Keith lowers his gaze, feeling called out for some reason, but Lotor sighs and crowds them both as he plasters his front to Keith’s side and side-hugs Keith, placing yet another soft kiss over his temple.

“Asking for comfort is part of how we work, Keith,” Lotor says. “Even if you don’t ask, we will know and act accordingly. I told you before, and I will tell you again and again until it’s etched into your neurons: you are more important than you think you are.”

Keith closes his eyes and sags into their bodies, savoring this moment and wishing that they would stay like this for ever. Or for a minute more. Then he turns his head and kisses Lotor, gazing up at him for a moment before he nuzzles Shiro’s cheek and presses his lips into it, making his way towards his mouth.

“Will you ask for our help when you need it?” Shiro says between the little kisses.

Keith stops for a long moment, then resumes his ministration until he has Shiro’s mouth under his and they’re engaged into a more heated kiss than initially intended.

“I won’t,” he says, and Lotor gears up to argue with that, his features crisp, “but only because I’m not used to do that.”

Shiro huffs a laugh and meets Lotor’s gaze. “At least he’s honest.”

“I’ve always been honest with you two.”

“Always?” There’s doubt in that simple word coming from Lotor.

“Mostly.”

They chuckle.

“I brought you a change of clothes.”

That takes Keith by surprise and he looks back at Lotor who points him towards the bed where, sure enough, neatly folded black clothes await for him. He surges forward and kisses Lotor, but because the angle is an awkward one, it’s not a full kiss.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Now you’re being honest.” Lotor grins and Keith just shakes his head.

They let him get to his clothes, and he takes off the towel without a care in the world. He catches them staring probably at his ass, so he makes sure that they can get a glimpse of it from different angles until Shiro breaks into chuckles.

“We’re not ogling your ass, Keith,” he says, amusement dripping from his words.

“But do continue,” Lotor adds. “I’m enjoying myself.”

Keith grins shark-like, then shakes his head in resignation as he pulls on the black turtleneck shirt. “If I didn’t love you already...”

“Say that again,” Shiro murmurs into his ear and Keith shivers at the sudden appearance, strong arms once again keeping him close, but this time the hands are wandering over his stomach.

“I’m not letting you undress me after I just finished putting some clothes on.”

Shiro breaks into a breathy laughter and squeezes him tight enough for Keith to gawk. He relents shortly afterwards, but doesn’t let him go, and settles to just nuzzle Keith behind the ear. With a huff, Keith lets himself be showered in affection, the grin big and dopey, and he finds Lotor smirking at them from the table and then return to the flexi in his hand. He sags back and closes his eyes.

“I love you,” he says quietly, and there’s a moment of stillness in the room for which Keith doesn’t open his eyes, but just waits to see what happens next.

“We love you too,” Shiro whispers and buries his face into Keith’s neck, breathing him in.

Lotor just hums, so Keith turns in Shiro’s arms and returns the hug, caressing Shiro’s back lazily. This is perfection. They stay like that for enough time to feel like they can go about without feeling the need to hug each other for a while.

He goes to Lotor’s side as Shiro goes to the bathroom, arm along his shoulders and peeks at the data running on the flexi, not comprehending any of it. Lotor side-hugs him and leans his head on Keith’s stomach. He pushes his face up and gazes at Keith through his eyelashes, which makes Keith chuckle.

“Trying to tell me something?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“And you’re the emperor to the known universe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Keith kisses him. It’s slow and sweet, the kind that Lotor doesn’t seem accustomed to have or give for that matter, so he lets Keith take the lead and stretch the kiss for however much he wants. And Keith is in no hurry whatsoever. That’s how Shiro finds them, glued to their mouths. He sits opposite them with a fond smile on his face. Keith caresses Lotor’s jaw and then neck before he breaks the kiss slowly.

Something on the table pings.

“We’re going to orbit Damex in six vargas,” Lotor says and tightens his hold on Keith’s hips which, in turn, has Keith lean more heavily into him and dropping a kiss on top of his head.

“Then I’m gonna go train some more,” Keith says. “I feel strangely energetic.”

But Lotor doesn’t release him.

“Lotor.”

“We can help you blow off steam here.”

Keith grins. “Contrary to popular belief, sex is not the answer to everything.”

Shiro arches an eyebrow. “I beg to differ.”

“Okay, _for me_ it’s not.”

“Rough sex?” Lotor says.

“No.”

“Wall sex?”

“We did that already.” What’s this ridiculous conversation? Is he still talking to the emperor and his right hand?

“We can change positions,” Shiro quips and Keith laughs.

“No sex, you two,” he says chuckling. “I’m going to train. My back stopped hurting, so I’m gonna see how much of my flexibility is back.”

“Sex requires flexibility, too.”

“No!” Keith laughs and shakes his head in fond amusement.

“You’re saying ‘no’ to your emperor?”

“Still not my emperor.”

Oddly enough, he’s leaning down towards those lips he already kissed— ages ago.

“Just like you’re still not Earth’s best Space Fleet Admiral.”

Keith grimaces at that and leans back. It didn’t stop sounding ridiculous after this much time. He wonders if it ever will. Lotor narrows down his eyes and Keith takes advantage of the fact that Lotor weakens his hold a bit and twirls out of his arm’s range.

“A kiss before you go,” Lotor asks, cocking his head to one side, not particularly miffed by Keith escaping his hold.

“Make that two.” There’s amusement there.

Amusement which blooms on Keith’s face as he shakes his head again.

“No, I’m not getting close to you two.”

“Why?” Shiro says, genuine confusion on his features for a few seconds before a smile that probably wants to be innocent stretches on his lips. “We don’t bite.”

“Much,” quips Lotor.

Keith chuckles and backtracks still.

“You wouldn’t let me go train, either, so no.”

Lotor _pouts_ and Keith’s imaginary balance _thunks_ towards favoring Lotor in a split second.

“You think so low of us?” Shiro says, and _oh no, this is playing dirty_ what with the pout to compete Lotor’s.

Keith shakes his head, looking everywhere _but_ at the two menaces. “I think and will always think the highest of you two,” he says softly and Lotor’s body goes rigid (just like Shiro freezes), then poised, an intent in his eyes. _“Now_ I’m gonna go train.” He directs the words mostly towards Lotor with a raised finger and a silent _whatever you’re about to do, don’t._

“I love you,” Shiro says as Keith’s mid-turning around.

Keith stops and looks back at him with a soft smile. “I love you, too.”

Lotor who doesn’t say anything, his face clean of all emotions except those laser-focused eyes, and Keith nods once then flees the room.

 

***

Training results in two hours of ducking and dodging balls and then a sentinel. The level is set on medium, but by the end of the two hours Keith’s drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. He doesn’t feel anything more than a minor discomfort in his lower back, which he puts on it being mostly psychological than anything physical, so he stretches his body from the waist up as he prepares himself to change the medium to hard.

“Activate—“

He’s distracted from completing his order by the door swishing open and allowing Lotor in. There’s a smirk on his lips as he saunters towards Keith and that just makes Keith even more suspicious.

“Spar with me,” he says.

Keith cocks an eyebrow. “I was about to change the modality to hard.”

“You think I’m not qualified to be on a hard level?”

 _Now_ Keith smirks and gives Lotor a slow once-over. “Oh, you’re hard all right.”

Lotor widens his stance a bit, mirroring Keith’s smirk, and motions for him to come hither, but Keith doesn’t move just yet. He takes his time studying Lotor, rehashing the many times he saw him battle, trying to anticipate Lotor’s counterattack.

Still, he does make the first move, running towards Lotor, gaining momentum and going for a straightforward attack which only covers for the knee that comes from the side and connects with Lotor’s ribs.

The emperor gasps and breaks the tight hold he had on Keith’s fist; he brings the inside of his forearm to nudge at the side Keith kicked, smirking and allowing for a nod of approval.

After the initial attack, it’s a dance around each other, testing still, but with an edge to it that draws Keith in like no other fight has ever before. He twirls around Lotor and then he bends down and pushes his shin into the back of Lotor’s knee which makes him lose his balance. But he doesn’t fall to the ground as Keith expected; instead, he stops his fall with his hand and, using the momentum to his advantage, he brings his legs up into the air, pushes his whole body weight to both his hands and rotates his legs once.

Keith knows that his lower back might not support this, but he instinctively leans back so low that he’s afraid he’s going to touch the ground to avoid the blow, though the burn in his thighs, back muscles and abs beg to differ. And, surprisingly, there’s no discomfort in his lower back.

With a sharp intake of breath he returns to his standing position, eyes wide. Lotor’s in a half-crouching position from having finished his attack and there’s so much challenge in his eyes, not to mention pride _for_ Keith.

Well, if things are like this—

For the first time in a long while he fully relaxes himself in his body. For the first time, he’s not afraid of going all the way. He’s ready to _fight_.

And Lotor sees that as he changes his position, gathers himself up and meets Keith with a hand at his back and another that’s motioning for Keith to come hither.

Keith throws his all into it, not sparing any punches or kicks, and Lotor deflects each and every single one of them, and Keith doesn’t have time to analyze it too closely as he’s too busy trying to find an opening.

It comes when Keith’s about to jump back and think of another plan of attack. He’s mid-air, going, again, for a straightforward punch, when he makes a split-second decision and changes his fist with his elbow at the last second, so that it catches Lotor by surprise. The elbow connects with Lotor’s cheek and manages to split his upper lip near the corner, but Lotor also manages to catch Keith’s wrist.

Keith knows that the way things are in right now, he will get pushed into a position from which it’d be hard to get out. So he lets his body drop heavily on his feet, which doesn’t dislodge Lotor’s hand, but it’s okay. He counted on this. With a swift move he, once again, goes for Lotor’s legs, and even though they’re wide apart, so Keith can’t get both of them, it’s enough one (even if it’s not the one that supports most of Lotor’s weight) to make Lotor’s balance wobble a bit.

And when Keith pushes into him at an angle to further unbalance his lover, he counts it as a victory for a split second as he finally goes down, but he forgot that they’re connected in one point and that point is pulling Keith down with Lotor.

He falls on top of Lotor, the imprisoned wrist dragged up above Lotor’s head, and his face is smushed into Lotor’s chest. Of course the arrogant prick laughs even though he’s the one who took the brunt of their fall.

Keith pushes himself up, a bit winded, and twists his hand to escape Lotor’s, but Lotor doesn’t let him, a razor-sharp smile on his lips. Just about when he pushes back, he becomes aware of the fact that there’s something hard dragging up his thigh and it’s not part of Lotor’s armor, because he wears none at the moment. Not only that, but he’s not far behind and feeling Lotor’s arousal only bolsters his own.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” he pants. “Somebody could walk in at—“

“Activate complete privacy.”

Shiro’s voice comes from his side and Keith whips his head in that direction, shocked to see the man leaning casually on the wall, though on closer inspection there’s a light flush to his cheeks. He bores holes into Keith at the moment and the crossed arms look anything but nonchalant. He looks back at Lotor.

“He’s going to watch,” Lotor says with a smirk.

That just makes Keith’s hard-on even harder. It takes him a split second to give in to his libido, plunging down into a tongue-and-teeth kiss, hands scrambling over Lotor’s body to find a patch of skin and burrow under his clothes. He doesn’t, but then his lover takes one of his hands and guides it down where his cock strains against the suit and Keith finds an opening after a bit of fumbling.

It’s not even zipped or buttoned. There are just two elastic edges that overlap. Keith would laugh at this, but then his mouth is rather busy battling Lotor’s. It surprises him that his stubborn lover isn’t flipping them over and resuming his top position. Maybe this is another kink Keith’s discovering.

He palms Lotor, now his hand almost completely beneath the fabric and Lotor moans into his mouth, momentarily distracted by the feeling so Keith pushes his tongue into his mouth, relishing the win. Not for long, though, as Lotor returns to himself in the next second, but instead of pushing him out, he actually _sucks_ on his tongue and times it with the hand that palms Keith’s own hardness and Keith moans, unable to think straight anymore.

They get their cocks out and then it’s a mad rush of getting each other off, both drunk on the friction between the two lengths, hips snapping up or down in a messy tandem.

Then Lotor takes them both in his large hand and provides the delicious tightness for them to push into as his other hand sneaks on his back and beneath his training pants and cups his ass, urging him forward.

Keith breaks the kiss and throws his head back, moaning and talking nonsense under his breath as he speeds up, chasing a rapidly-building orgasm. It’s a mad dash, everything accentuated by the sole thought that Lotor’s hands and gaze are on him. It heightens his pleasure and he’s more vocal, especially when a digit circles his tight ring of muscles. It never enters, but the feather-like touch is just what he needs to lose himself to the sensation and let his orgasm course through him.

He’s panting into Lotor’s shoulder when he comes back to his senses and he pushes himself up to see a disheveled Emperor, flushed and glassy eyed, and Keith bats his hand away, his own cock already sensitive, and moves down on his body. He goes down on the big cock, a hand at the base as he can’t take all of it in, and starts sucking like he’s paid to do that, pumping his hand in time and fondling his balls. He wants it to be brutal and fast, to not give his lover time to do anything _but_ feel.

Lotor comes with a strangled cry, hips arching up as much as Keith’s hand on his hip would let him, and really, it’s hard to keep one’s wits about when one has such a debauched and tantalizing Emperor beneath their mouth.

“We’re leaving for Mraxis,” Shiro interrupts his haze, his voice sounding weird like he’s being strangled. “In an hour, so I suggest you shower first.”

By the time Keith turns his head to look at Shiro, he only manages to get a glimpse of his back as the door closes behind him.

“Is he… mad that we did...”

Lotor chuckles and shakes his head before he sits up, bringing the wrist he held captive to his lips. “It’s as far as his self-control stretches.”

Keith blinks. “He could’ve joined us...”

But Lotor shakes his head once again and helps Keith to his feet. “I suggest we do as he says. Who knows, we might convince him to spare some water.” He winks and guides Keith out of the training room, the come in his pants making him scrunch up his nose.

It’s ridiculously easy to convince Shiro to share a shower with them, but that’s only because Shiro’s already in the shower, flushed and so hard Keith can only sympathize with him because he knows how fucking much it must hurt. Lotor fucks him against Keith because Keith’s taking care of stroking Shiro’s cock, bracketed by the metal forearm on the wall as the flesh one urges Keith’s head forward so that his mouth can clash with his in a messy kiss. It’s only because of Lotor’s hands on Shiro’s hips that Shiro manages to stand, seeing as his legs are push wide apart to accommodate Lotor’s cock inside.

And Lotor doesn’t spare any of his thrusts, going at it fast and hard, pulling unguarded moans and cry outs from Shiro and Keith has a hard time timing his strokes as Shiro’s pushed repeatedly into Keith. By the time Shiro spills himself into Keith’s hand, Keith’s half-hard himself. He embraces Shiro as he comes out of his blissful headspace. Lotor is taking care of washing him, first cleaning the come sluicing down the inside of his legs, then lathers his back with soap. By the soft sounds he makes, the washing dubs as a massage too. Keith just smiles and kisses the juncture where jaw meets his ear because that’s one of the two places he can reach what with two hundred pounds man leaning into him.

Keith’s drying his hair, already dressed in his full body suit, when somebody knocks on their door. It turns out to be one of Lotor’s Generals, Acxa, who informs them of Damex’s leader throwing a party in honor of Lotor’s arrival.

That has Keith cock an eyebrow. “Don’t you think that’s a bit overdoing it? Besides, you’ll be in plain sight of whoever wants to kill you.”

“That is true, but Acxa and Ezor will act as my personal bodyguards while you two—“ he gives them both an appreciative once-over “—will infiltrate their base.”

Keith considers this, and even though it sounds like a plan, he’s not sure he wants Lotor _that_ exposed. Not if he’s not there to keep an eye out for anyone suspicious.

“I don’t like the idea,” Shiro says, ”of you being surrounded by so many people with so little security.”

“Are you underestimating me, Commander Shirogane?” Acxa says and she sounds commanding in a way that’s also respectful.

He shakes his head. “No. I just want Lotor with an extra layer of protection and at least three back-up plans.”

“I assure you, Shiro, that if anyone intends to undermine my authority, they’ll be sorely disappointed. Besides, there will be Damex’s elite force controlling the crowd and surveying the place from every advantage point there is there.”

But Shiro doesn’t back down. “I won’t let your safety in the hands of strangers.”

“I’m with Shiro on this one,” Keith says, taking a step forward, the both of them presenting an impenetrable front. “In this kind of situations you can never have enough protection.”

Lotor meets both of their gazes, his own face a calculating mask.

“Very well,” Lotor says, and it doesn’t feel like admitting defeat, but more like a compromise. “You’ll both stay for a while. Enough time to ensure that I’m ‘well-protected’,” — even without the hand gestures, Keith still hears the air quotes around those words — “After that you’ll proceed with your part of the plan. Is that understood?”

It is a compromise; not the kind Keith expected to hear, but beggars can’t be choosers. They both nod, albeit reluctantly.

“Just,” Shiro starts, stops and sighs. “Just be careful out there. With or without us. Especially without us.”

A sneak peek at Acxa shows no outward expression of what she thinks of Shiro’s disregard of her skills to keep their emperor safe.

“I’m always careful.”

“You also love to show off and rub your success into other people’s faces, especially when they once opposed or didn’t support you in your endeavors. And Kraktar is one of those.”

Lotor grins like he’s about to torture his greatest enemy and Shiro just shakes his head.


	11. Bionic

**11**

**_Bionic_ **

Lotor brought the mothership planetside because it never hurt to show off your prowess. Not that Lotor needed to do that, but Keith reckons it’s part of this charade he’s putting on to make the enemy underestimate him. He’s the best at that. More than that, he seems to thrive on throwing his opponents off the loop with his decisions.

The sprawl of the buildings in the approaching distance, shimmering like spring water at noon, stretch in a semi-circle around the gulf. There were other ships around, but none as big as Emperor Lotor’s mothership and none close to it. Keith isn’t comfortable with the plan they came up with; not when it means that Lotor would have to be in plain sight for anyone who wants to kill him to have a clean shot.

Even from this distance, it’s unmistakable that the whole city is gathered around the dock to welcome Lotor. There’s a wide space between the sea and the first row of buildings where the crowd covers both sides for as far as the eye can see, and beyond that, directly in front of the mothership, the mass pours onto a wide street, flanked by rows upon rows of tall buildings and several city-ships, most of them reporters, he’s sure.

This will be broadcast as far as the signal can reach gallaxy-wise. Everybody and their grandma will know where Lotor is at this very moment. Again, not something he likes.

“There are too many openings,” Keith says, indicating the rooftops and the waiting city-ships on the comp-screen. “Your on-site protection detail is on the ground.”

A hand warms his shoulder and he turns towards Lotor, who is smiling.

“Their elite force is not known for being conspicuous, you know. They’re there. And it’s good that we don’t see them, otherwise they wouldn’t be doing their jobs right.”

Keith looks at Shiro, hoping to convey how badly all of this is sitting with him. Shiro throws a glance at the comp-screen, contemplating things.

“We’ll need to be extra vigilant,” Shiro says and Keith opens his mouth, but is interrupted.

“Sir,” Acxa says, “five doboshes until docking.”

Lotor nods and walks towards the elevator, leaving Keith and Shiro to follow him. Acxa does the same, but at a juncture she makes left and disappears from sight. She and Ezor will be the first to get off and blend with the crowd.

“Can’t you call this off? I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Keith says when the doors to the elevator close.

Lotor whirls around and bodily pushes Keith into the wall, breath fanning over his cheek as Lotor not only pins him with his body, but with his gaze too.

“We’re too far into the game to stop now,” he murmurs and Keith’s grappling with the coherent thoughts that fled like a flock of birds at the sudden change in perspective. “And it’s bad for my reputation to back away just because there’s the possibility of being killed.”

“Since when do you care about reputation?” Keith breathes out unsteadily.

Lotor kisses him, a long, drawn out kiss that makes Keith go weak in the knees. When Lotor leans back, Keith finds himself leaning forward to nip at his lips, and Lotor lets him, the same way he’d probably let a kitten climb his leg.

“There’s nothing wrong with trusting your instincts,” Lotor says, stepping back and turning towards the doors a couple of seconds before they open. “It gives you an extra edge.”

“Don’t get sloppy,” Shiro says, twining their hands and squeezing once, before letting go.

“I’m starting to get mildly insulted by your lack of confidence in my skills.”

There’s amusement in that voice as Keith comes to stand a half-step behind Lotor, and he sees Shiro’s smirk as he looks forward, his stance that of a Commander about to ready his troops for the battle. Keith has no control over the arousal that surges through him, and it takes him several steps afterwards to rein himself in an focus on being the efficient bodyguard he apparently signed up to be.

The uproar of the crowd, as they step into the sun, almost deafens Keith.

He takes in all of them at a glance, letting his gaze stop only when he finds something suspicious in the throng of people. He comes up clean. Unless he counts the garish blood red suits of the guards separating the mass like a clean wound on an unblemished, dark skin.

There’s red and then there’s the gold of the hovercraft and the alien residing in it. It’s difficult for Keith to decide if their host is pleased to have Lotor on his planet or if he’s that bad at hiding contempt. The three spikes protruding downwards from beneath his nose certainly don’t mask the asymmetrical line of his mouth. Maybe the guy is just disfigured from a battle — or he was born that way.

He stands and the crowd quiets like a wave.

They stop just outside of the mothership’s ramp, several feet away from the hovercraft.

Keith steals glances at Shiro, mostly, because he’s the only one he can see part of his face, but he finds no answers or guidelines there.

_ “Welcome,” _ his build-in translator says as Keith continues to scrutinize the crowd and the background of it. He recognizes some inflections and bits of words to be of Galra origin.  _ “Emperor to the known universe, son of Honerva. Damex is thrilled to have you grace her with your presence. Please, as a token of our gratitude, accept this gift on behalf of the Rule of Muisha Warrior and all of her peoples.” _

Two guards hurry from the left of the hovercraft with a golden chest between them that they place in front of Lotor. They open the lid and the sun catches on the golden coins and tear-shaped crystals, most of which seem to shine on their own.

What need does Lotor have for all of that when spaceside they value nothing?

He keeps a blank face, only reserving it a cursory glance.

_ “And for your second-in-command and most trusted subject, a gift made by our finest blacksmiths.” _

Well, that sounds like the guy is overdoing it. And is that a deliberate  _ faux-pas  _ he did there what with calling Shiro Lotor’s most trusted subject? There’s something brewing underneath all of this charade, obviously. Shiro doesn’t react in any way as the sole guard on the right side of the craft advances and places a black veil of a precious material on the ground before revealing a rectangular metallic box.

_ “An accessory befitted for your arm. To better protect our Liberator.” _

This time, Keith does linger over the box. The fact that the guard, now standing aside like the other two, doesn’t open the box has him curious as to what accessory the leader is talking about.

_ “I must apologize, however, that we do not have a present for the esteemed subordinate at your left.” _

Keith almost snorts and rolls his eyes because the pleasantries here are becoming tedious to the point of him stifling yawns; it’s strange, however, that Lotor hasn’t commented yet in any way. Or moved. Then it hits him that the only person standing at Lotor’s left is himself.

Is he required to say something here? Maybe reassure their host that it’s no big deal? Do these royals act under different rules than Earth’s royals?

_ “He is most certainly not my subordinate, Leader Kraktar,” _ Lotor says, and it’s a testament to Keith’s self-control that he doesn’t sport an instant boner the moment he hears Lotor use that wicked mouth of his to shape Galra words.

By no means does Galra sound romantic or sexy, but more like falling rocks and jagged bits with the occasional soft sound, like the coupling between an  _ h  _ and  _ r. _ Still, Lotor seems to have mastered the tone of voice that they all consider leader-material: smooth, but commanding.

_ “He stands on par with Commander Shirogane, so I would be grateful if you treat him as such.” _

There’s a pause in which the leader seems to be grappling with something or other.

_ “Of course, of course,” _ Kraktar says and then waves a hand. A hovercraft glides above him and descends slowly in front of them at the same time as the guards pack the gifts.  _ “Your tokens will await you in your chamber.” _

Chamber? His translator might need an update or two, but he forgets about that when the door to the hover opens. There are no controls to be seen inside it and that ticks Keith off more than he cares to admit. He wants to say something, but Lotor inclines his head and climbs into the craft, Shiro sitting on Lotor’s left side, so Keith’s left to flank his lover on the right. The plushy bench is in a semi-circle shape, which leaves a lot of legroom.

“Is this controlled remotely?” he says mostly towards his comm, managing to not move his lips much.

_ “Unfortunately,” _ Shiro says in the same manner while the hovercraft lifts and follows Kraktar.

“So I’m not the only one who doesn’t feel good about this.”

_ “Stay shiny,” _ he says.

Well, at least Keith’s not the only one who saw that tv series.

Lotor does his duty as emperor and waves at people from time to time and most probably smiling his charming smile at the cameras that are pointed in his direction from multiple angles. Keith’s glad he doesn’t need to put on a facade for this. Keeping a mask for that long would hurt his face irreparably. He scrutinizes every building they pass by on his side, but nothing stands up to him as strange.

Until he catches sight of something moving on the balcony of the third storey as they’re approaching it. When he latches onto that particular area, there’s nobody on it, which stands at odd with the full ones around it. Tension creeps into his muscles, upper body hunching over slowly prepared to bodily cover Lotor, if need be.

Then the bead curtain swipes over and allows a chunky grey-green alien with four bottles of some sort in his big hands. Soon after, another one appears behind, same height, but more scraggly, hugging the first one from behind. Well, now, no need to be so tense around — alien love.

He takes a deep breath and relaxes some, checking the rest of them.

He turns his head slightly towards Lotor, his lover being engaged in saluting people, and meets Shiro’s gaze for a split second— enough to see the widening of his eyes before they’re hit by something powerful enough to send the hovercraft crashing on a side-street.

From then on, things descend into chaos.

A crowd like that one never helped in such situations.

 

***

“They took him,” Shiro says into the comm piece, breathing like he’s tried matching his speed with that of a cheetah.

Alien cheetah.

“Right from under your nose?” comes Ezor’s chirpy voice. “Good job, Captain Shirogane!”

“We proceed with the plan,” Acxa says, neutral and too put-together.

“No, the plan changed. We’re going to save him.”

“Commander Shirogane,” Acxa begins, the no nonsense filtering through. “Our plan serves a very specific end. We are to follow through no matter what. It’s imperative.”

“I’ll be the one to decided that,” Shiro barks into the comm, standing up from the broken and smoking piece of metal he took a reprieve on.

There’s a crackling, long pause. It’s basically the equivalent of an hour-long passive-aggressive explanation on why that is not going to happen right now.

“I won’t argue with you over who gets to decide what,” Acxa says. A drawn-out “oh” comes from Ezor, but it’s quieter than Acxa’s words. “You need to keep a level head right now and not let yourself be swayed by emotions.”

“Are you implying that I’m emotionally compromised?”

“Yes,” comes the answer, not even a beat of silence in-between.

Shiro bites the inside of his cheek. He has no comeback to that.

“We’re bringing them down through every means necessary.”

“Yessir!” A beat. “Status?”

“Scratch and burn marks. Superficial. Same goes for Keith.” He meets Keith’s gaze and Keith nods, looking around at the wreckage and the deserted street. “We’ll meet you at the  _ rendez-vous. _ ”

She signs out.

The holo-map Keith found in the Syca shelter shimmers to life from his bracelet.

“This is where we need to strike.” He points at a blue dot connecting several lines only on one side.

Shiro snaps his metal arm and a laser blade manifests from his wrist.

“Keep a level head,” Keith says, no inflection in his voice.

“We’ll see about that.”

 

***

Picking their way inside the rebel base is child’s play with the map that Keith has. Ezor and Acxa stay quiet for the entirety of their journey which can mean any number of things, from the most nasty to the most wonderful ones. They encounter only six rebels patrolling the tunnel they’re in and Shiro takes each one out of commission. After the third one, Keith gives up trying to help him.

It’s easier to guide them and alert Shiro of the next rebel than to consume energy trying to fight. He doesn’t need his gut feeling to know that there’s a bigger fight awaiting them once they reach the HQ.

Two dots approach the juncture they’re coming up to fast, but when he nods for him to strike, Shiro’s blade encounters Acxa’s and they take a couple of seconds to stare at each other before they compose themselves and head towards the middle of the underground compound.

There’s no time for stealth as the rebels open fire upon catching sight of them and that’s when the first wave of fights begins and Keith gives it his whole.

The first several opponents are good, but he’s better, so he takes them out in under two minutes. He’s riding the high from those fights when a tall, ripped Galra charges towards him (he doesn’t even hide his face behind the masks like the others.)

Keith’s thrown in the opposite wall before he manages to snap out of his initial shock that Galras can reach bigger heights than he’s used to.

This fight will hurt.

It’s hurting already.

 

***

They used stone cuffs on him, of course they did. They know what he’s capable of, if underestimated. But overestimating him is still playing to his advantage. The two rebels, taller than him, flank his sides as they follow yet another long, brightly lit hallway.

Another pair of rebels heads their way from the opposite direction, in a rush.

“Iczar is gone. Eckary took his place. You’re ordered to deliver the prisoner in Section A 458.”

They salute each other the Galra way, still, and Lotor’s ‘bodyguards’ push him to turn around and walk back the way they came until another hallway opens up to their left.

Both guards have their luxite blades strapped to their back, so it’d be hard to reach either one. But the good thing about overestimating him and placing his hands in front of him where they can see every move he would do with them is that he doesn’t need to spare time to bring his bound arms in front of him.

They reach a room before he can decide on the best option he has and stepping inside reveals a room that has half of the opposite wall made out of glass which reveals a walkway, and behind that a lot of rebels.

An army.

His eyes slide swiftly to the other three people, one of whom is facing the window while the other two take him in with bored interest.

The moment the third one faces him, Lotor narrows down his eyes.

“I apologize for the current situation, Emperor Lotor. My name is Eckary Arzaar, and only quintents ago news of our leader’s death reached my ears. As of now, I am in command of the rebel coalition.”

“And you’re telling me this because?”

Her face is hard like rocks, but not exactly harsh. There’s a softness around her eyes that tells him she’s a Galra he can reason with. He can’t turn his attention towards the commotion that comes from the outside when the two Galra flanking her step outside on the walkway, as she tells him something that takes him by surprise.

“Because I intend to cease the battle between our sides and instead work together. We share the same goal. I see no reason why we should fight against each other for the same prize, when we can accomplish more together. For that I’d like to—”

But even she is distracted when an explosion reverberates through the stone walls. They rush outside just for Lotor to feel his breath catch in his throat as his Generals and lovers are fighting their way into the compound.

“Imher, tell them to hold their fire. Now,” she orders, her tone brooking no arguments and the Galra next to her salutes and communicates the order through the comm.

And then he catches Shiro’s eye and that’s all it takes for him to change course.

 

***

“What does an insect like you think it’s gonna happen here? Overtake this base?” His opponent guffaws as Keith struggles to pick himself up from where he’s been punched like the guy wanted to go through him. “Win? We outnumber you! You’re just a speck of dust in a sea of _marguht_ ch. And we’re _hungrrry.”_

He leans down with a creepy smile and Keith has enough presence of mind to roll to one side as the flail he’s been swinging around like a lunatic comes boring down.

“I’m sure it escaped your attention,” Keith says as he stands up, favoring his left leg on which he fell early on. “I hate using that, so of course you wouldn’t know. It’s not like I go around bragging about it myself, but—”

He runs towards the guy, who only grins maniacally, making the spiky head of his flail become a grey blur at his side, and jumps as high as possible. He catches himself on the lever that caught his attention a while ago, but couldn’t get close enough to it to use it, and does a full swing — once.

Then he lets go.

“I’m Earth’s best Space Fleet Admiral, asshole!” he growls loud enough to echo in the huge hall as he lets gravity pull him down.

He lands on his opponent, pulling out a satisfying grunt, and they skid to a halt, not quite near the middle of the cavernous space.

The fight almost leaves him when he lifts his eyes and sees the mass of rebels ready to fight. There’s no way the four of them can take what looks like over a thousand opponents at once. Not even divine intervention or Shiro’s metal arm can help them.

“Enough,” a voice bellows from somewhere above, the guttural sound carrying along the concave walls.

But it’s not enough to stop the opponent Keith’s been fighting from slicing his right cheek and eye with the flail he swings at him. Goddammit, if he hadn’t been distracted, if he had pulled back faster, if the Galra had been unconscious.

_ If, if, if. _

He cries out in pain as he falls to the side, his voice high-pitched even to his own ears, but the pain that blooms on the right side of his face has no comparison. His eye is burning in white, hot flashes even as blood coats his hand in red. The pain is so intense that for a second he doesn’t hear anything else but the rush of blood in his ears. Then there’s a breeze followed by a pained grunt before a body thuds to the floor, and then there’s a hand on his shoulders and it’s one he doesn’t recognize.

He blearily opens his good eye and it takes him a couple of seconds to focus on two bodies up on the walkway, and it takes him another second to realize that it’s Lotor threatening a female Galra and on the other end it’s Shiro, mirroring Lotor’s position, but with the Murali leader beneath the laser blade of his metal arm.

What’s he doing there? 

“Express one reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat right here and now.”

The words are growled, the tomb silence carrying the sound far, and Keith wonders for one, surreal moment, if they were even words or if Lotor just discovered a hidden side of himself. To her credit, the Galra, whose neck is under his cuffed hands, doesn’t move.

“We canz helps wizze human,” Seh says.

“We.” Shiro’s tone is flat and suspicious. The blade inches forward.

“Waits! We canz helps,” he repeats. “Eckary iz me cousin. Time’s essentials. He needn’t lose more bloods.”

He doesn’t hear what Lotor says next. There’s too much darkness creeping around the edges and when he looks to his left with his good eye, Ezor’s serene expression wobbles and he might have opened his mouth to say something, but all he feels before fainting is something soft and warm.

When he comes to, he’s groggy and it’s impossible for him to shrug off the feeling of this not being his own body. At least he hopes nobody tinkered with that while he was out, considering that his eyes open a slit to take in a small, dark room, lit by wall lamps that chase off the shadows. They do nothing for the marrow-deep cold that makes him shiver, but he realizes that a thick blanket covers him from shoulders to toes.

Sahara might have crawled inside his mouth and took permanent residence while he was unconscious. That or maybe a cotton factory.

When his right hand twitches, he becomes aware of the fact that it’s not alone.

Opening his eyes a second time is harder and it does not succeed; the panic settles in when one of them stays resolutely shut.

“Wha— wha — hap’nd,” he tries to say, but an uncooperative mouth never led to coherent sentences.

The hand squeezes his and then brings it up to encounter soft lips that kiss his knuckles.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, the gust of warm breath chasing away the cold for a second. “We’re still on Damex, still underground. Right now you’re recovering from an injury that —“ he hesitates, places another kiss on Keith’s knuckles “— took away your right eye.”

Keith sucks in a sudden breath and keeps it in until the shock subsides and the memories that rush down to him stop making him dizzy.

“But we managed to salvage some of it and Seh came with his team of scientists to talk business with Kraktar. They replaced 70% of your eye.”

His other hand comes up to touch the bulging pad on his right eye. Before he realizes it, it’s halfway off and he hisses when the last of the surgical tape comes off, pulling at his still tender flesh.

Lotor doesn’t stop him. He just keeps his other hand between his as an anchor.

Keith needs that and all the courage he can muster to open both eyes this time, bit by bit, and take his surroundings in once again. The room turns out to be less lit than he first thought it was, and he’s grateful to whoever had the presence of mind to think beforehand about his sensitivity to light.

“How is it? Is the light too strong? I can dim it down more if —“

“It’s okay,” he says, shaky and small.

There’s not much difference between his eyes. He can see everything perfectly. Except the right one now can zoom so much in and out that he needs to blink repeatedly to adjust to the extravagant change in focus. Speaking of, he focuses with ease on the tiniest or broadest things. Like the can in the corner, on the edge to the left there’s a speck of dust that’s wobbling back and forth as the air in the room circulates. But before he moves on to focus on the other person in the room with him, his new eye does something new and dissolves the can into a soft orange that shows the molecular composition as well as what’s inside it. Currently nothing.

“Well now,” he says as he looks at Lotor and has to blink a few times to actually see his face and not two different images of the same person. “If you ever refuse to take off your clothes, just be aware that I’ll be able to see your skeleton with the new eye.”

Lotor is surprised into chuckling and pulls him down for a hug that surprises Keith. Then he melts and gathers Lotor even closer to his chest, sighing like the whole tension in his body left him just like that.

“Where’s Shiro?” he breathes out after they both take their share of comfort from the other. Keith still has his hands fisted in Lotor’s suit, keeping him close.

“He went with a Murali engineer to have a check up on his arm.”

“And you’re not with him?”

“He told me to stay here with you for when you woke up.”

Keith grins, unable to discern if the warm, tingling sensation all over his body is because of the anesthetic wearing off or a result of something else.

“Since when do you do what you’re told to do?”

“Since I was already inclined to stay. He just made the decision easier.”

Keith exhales softly and leans back on the cushion, reluctantly letting Lotor go.

“You’re going to have to divide your attention between me and Shiro. It’s going to become tiresome at some point.”

He takes Keith’s hand between his and kisses his knuckles which brings a besotted smile to his lips.

“It probably will.”

Keith looks at him.

“But I’m more focused on cherishing the ticks we have now than to worry about the future.”

During the lull in their conversation, as Keith takes in Lotor’s words, the door swishes open to allow in Seh and the leader of the rebels as well as two Murali aliens dressed in pale blue suits with pale orange cuffs.

The strangers approach him with the confidence of torturers and Keith finds himself squeezing Lotor’s hand and leaning towards him.

“It’s okay, Keith. They’re here to check up on you.”

The comp-screens in their hands have diagrams and alien characters on them. He’s gently pushed back as the bed becomes a horizontal line and the second Murali passes the comp-screem over him, then places her palm on one surface and pushes up Keith’s body hologram. Something in the ceiling opens and takes the hologram and expands it, the blue-grey light changing the orange of it.

They talk in Murali and Keith’s left to move his gaze from one to the other, then his eye does something new: translates their words on the retina of the new eye. Now  _ that _ is handy. Apparently, he’s completely healed up from all the injuries he sustained during the fight, except the injury located on his face. The scar is coming up harder than they expect it.

Lotor mutters a dark  _ luxite _ under his breath, but otherwise doesn’t say anything else.

Then they flank Keith and do a scan of his head.

“The bionic eye formed a connection with the optic nerve. Your body didn’t reject it as we feared it might. Three to five days of rest should have you completely restored.”

“What kind of bionic eye is this?” he asks, unable to keep his curiosity in check.

“Our latest advanced technology. It has a long list of things it can do, from the most basic like scanning and infrared to the more complex ones like getting into databases and picking up radio signals. We don’t recommend doing the latter as it might give killer headaches. Just take it easy and get used to the basics.”

“Huh. So you improved me.”

The female throws a glance at Seh. “Only the best for the emperor’s significant other.”

He looks behind her with a raised eyebrow and amusement filling his features.

“Significant other,” Keith repeats, Lotor’s smirk self-indulgent. “I like how that sounds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter might take a while as it is undergoing some major changes and rewriting and my writing drive is on the low side, so bear with me XD


	12. Double

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pay heed to the tags. Especially the last one.

**12**

**Double**

 

Keith gets out of their bedroom on silent feet, feeling giddy that, for once, he woke up before them. Well rested. Nothing kinky happened since they reached Eskia and established themselves in the royal castle, and not for lack of wanting from either part. They’ve simply been too busy overseeing _everything_ to manage more than sleepy kisses (that, most often than not, didn’t even land on lips) and mumbled words as they fell asleep in a tangle of limbs. He gets away with spooning Shiro because nobody is awake enough to change their positions, which is why he leaves the warmth of the bed so easily.

He stops in the middle of the royal hallway and looks both ways, wondering which way was it that he came from last night. He walks further down until someone rounds the far corner and comes his way. Without thinking about it, he takes a defense position, feet wide apart and arms ready to counterattack.

What he gets is a curtsy and stilted, bad English.

“We make no chamber. You apologize.”

Keith blinks. “I need to apologize?”

She shakes her head. “No clean. Others. Fit no room you.”

He cocks his head, trying to discern if she’s telling him that the rooms they have available won’t fit him in or if he’d need to share one with other people that aren’t clean. Both of which don’t apply to him, but she looks so worked up (and she must be new) that he won’t even try to make her explain herself in English.

“Translate: please speak in your language.”

Just as he finishes the command he realizes that he might have offended this person, but instead she looks relieved. Then she fires off in a series of syllables that seem to have no rule or punctuation.

“ _We do not have a room prepared for you my sir as we did not expect you — we humbly apologize for the slight and we hope you shall not visit upon us too great a punishment._ ”

He really needs to talk to Hunk and see if he can’t update the translator.

“No. No, I’m not gonna punish you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll just… I’m gonna be fine. I already have a room.”

He pauses as the translator relays his message and her floral features seem to brighten. The color of her skin is lighter, too. From a dark pink to an almost beige.

She makes a curtsy and leaves, so Keith goes in the opposite direction and ends up on the ground floor. Or more accurately, on a level below their quarters. Whoever designed the castle, is very fond of mazes and secret passages. Not even Lotor knows all of them, but he promised both of them that, when things settle down, they’ll go on a merry journey inside the castle to discover every secret nook and cranny. Keith almost forgot how it is to feel excited about anything else that is not a mission.

There are definitely more people bustling around on this floor than on the one upstairs. Makes sense, that one is entirely reserved to his _emperorness._

For a minute, he just stands there and watches it all unfold, taking in the colors and forms, letting the situation sink in.

He’s on _Eskia._

They’ve been here for more than two weeks already and he realizes only now that he never once felt homesick.

A servant with a tray full of buns (the ones that Keith knows are filled with a sort of grey-green cream that tastes amazing) passes by and, on impulse, Keith steals two. He’s savoring the second one and is stealing a tart from another tray when he becomes aware of a presence at his side. Glancing over, his face breaks into a close-mouthed smile as he chews.

Hunk has a serene expression on his face, which can only mean that everything is running smoothly on his end.

“Hey, Keith!” he greets warmly, and Keith thumbs him up instead of speaking. “I see your appetite is back to normal.”

He swallows. “I feel ravenous.”

Hunk chuckles and steals a bun from another passing tray, too.

“Considering how good these are, and how close to human flavors they’re making them, I don’t think anyone would refuse them.” He pauses to chew and then swallow. “Still, I’m glad that you enjoy yourself so much.”

“What do you mean? I always enjoyed myself.”

Hunk shakes his head. “You were never this carefree and happy. I take it everything’s going well with Lotor and Shiro.”

His cheeks warm up at that, not even realizing that there are no titles preceding the names, and because he’s the guy that he is, he looks around for another servant with food as a distraction, but Hunk places a warm hand over his forearm to bring his attention back.

“I know you’ve cared about them since the Syca war. It brings me joy to finally see you happy and sharing yourself with people you trust and love. That’s all, man.”

Keith glances down at the hand and then at Hunk, but he doesn’t have any response to that. Not when a well of warmth bubbles up in his chest at the thought of his lovers, asleep and tangled into each other in their bed. He nods, though, and covers Hunk’s hand with his own.

“How’re things on your end?” he asks as he steals yet another two buns, and Hunk does the same to the exasperation of the servant.

“Everything’s rolling without a hitch. The Myr helps a lot with the soil and we’re still monitoring the plants that have wilted during the transport, but they’re showing improvement from last week.”

“Good.” He pats his shoulder and then they fall into a companionable silence, eating their buns. “How are things between you and the Generals?” There’s a little grin there that he doesn’t even try to conceal.

Hunk’s ears go red, but there’s a soft smile on his lips. “Unexpectedly good. I confess, I was expecting them to forget about me once we landed, but if nothing else,” and here his cheeks bloom a faint shade of scarlett, “they’ve kept me company almost constantly.”

Keith’s cheeks are hurting from how much he’s smiling. Finally, somebody saw how precious and adorable Hunk is. Speaking of, his bionic eye zooms in on Narti approaching from the east entrance in no hurry. Kova’s gaze is on them, unblinking.

“I don’t think they could’ve let you out of their sight anyway. You’re too lovable for that.”

He watches with increasing amusement how Hunk’s face goes beet red, but it’s okay because he’s smiling softly.

“There’s nothing sexual between us,” Hunk says, which doesn’t quite surprise Keith as much as it would have prior to seeing them around each other. “I mean, we care about each other deeply, but there are no sexual feelings.”

Keith doesn’t answer, mostly because Narti is already there, pulling Hunk’s attention towards them like a magnet, and Kova jumps on Hunk’s shoulder.

“Hey there, Narti,” he says, warmth suffusing his words as he scratches Kova under his jaw, and Narti places her arm around Hunk’s hips. “Where’s Zethrid?” He looks at Narti and then at Kova. “So still overseeing the deliveries and transportation.” Narti nods once. “Well, then, we better go and help. It’s been wonderful seeing you, man.”

“You, too.”

“I’ll see you around, then!”

Keith waves as Hunk and Narti leave, heaving a satisfied sigh and looking around in contemplation. What should he do first?

 

***

Keith grimaces. The holo-map above the table looks like it could open up like a maw and swallow him whole.

“I’m not sure—”

“Keith,” Thace interrupts, and it’s interesting to note how there’s exasperation stealing into his tone of voice. It might be because they’re on their planet among other Galra — or Keith became that good at picking apart the subtle intonations. “You are not just an Admiral anymore. You are Prince Consort,” Keith scrunches up his nose at that, “and I know how much you do not like titles, but you cannot run away from this responsibility. You were aware what it meant becoming Emperor Lotor’s significant other—”

“Actually, I wasn’t.”

“Then you should have used your upper brain.”

Keith blinks at him. “Since when do you know how sarcasm works?”

A minuscule smile gathers around the corner of his eyes and Keith sighs to cover for the smile he cannot stop.

“I’m not good at speeches,” he says, eyes lingering over the holo-map and the big dot flanked by a range of mountains on one side and hills on the other. “No matter how much you push for it, I’m just not good. I’m not the best candidate for this thing. Why can’t Lotor or Shiro do it? Or even you. Sendak’s back and he’s the best at doing the whole bow-before-me-and-nod-to-everything-I-say speech. I’ll just end up making a fool of myself, or, worse, start a war. So—”

“I don’t think anybody would dare do that,” Lotor chirps from behind Keith, which makes him jolt to the side. “Or risk my wrath.”

Shiro’s half a step behind him, struggling to keep the amused grin at bay. Lotor has no such qualms, and both of them dazzle Keith into forgetting how to breathe. It’s been half a day since he left them asleep, more since he kissed them properly. The need to do that right now froths to the surface, but he swallows, takes a deep breathe and glances to the side at the holo-map.

Lotor stops between them, hands clasped behind his back, a genial smile on his lips, but Shiro has no reservations and sneaks his arms on Keith’s stomach, hugging him. The wall of muscles and warmth at his back is everything he was missing. Suffice to say that Keith has become so addicted to every type of physical comfort they offer (or weak against it) that he promptly melts into Shiro.

“I hope things are proceeding well, general,” he says, authoritative a smidgeon, amused a mile.

Thace salutes his emperor and nods once. “They are. I was trying to convince Keith that he is the perfect candidate to give the first speech of the inauguration in a movement.”

“I disagree,” Keith says, but it comes out as weak, like an echo in an empty room, distracted as he is by Shiro nuzzling his neck.

It’s not fair when Lotor’s gaze pierces his soul like an all-consuming fire because it’s even harder to think coherently or stay on track with the discussion and the reasons why he’s opposing this.

“Leave us, general,” Lotor says, refusing to let Keith out of his sight.

The words might have come out as commanding, resulting in Thace bowing and seeing himself out of the room, but to Keith’s sensitive (everything) ears, they sound so foreboding that he gasps. Well, not that it’s that easy to make him gasp, but Shiro has always had such infuriatingly perfect timing, hands dipping underneath his black tee and caressing his abs in a semi-ticklish manner.

“I’m not doing it.”

His voice stutters, too affected by Shiro’s hands roaming freely on his skin, Lotor’s fond smile, his own want. The warning finger he puts between him and Lotor is useless.

It takes a step for the emperor to crowd him, for his warmth to seep into Keith’s hand, now fanned in the center of his chest. He’s kissed like Lotor’s been starving for Keith for a very long time, and Keith’s knees go weak. Shiro huffs a soft chuckle behind his ear as he tightens his arms around him, and Keith’s dizzy from lack of oxygen and touch starved when Lotor leans back. Keith’s hand fists into his shirt tugging him back for another kiss, which he gives freely and without reserve.

They’re both breathing hard after that, and Keith leans his head to one side to give Shiro more skin to kiss, and Shiro’s hunger for him becomes more pointed as the kisses become less platonic and more with an end in mind. Keith gasps, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back on Shiro’s shoulder.

“You weren’t there when we woke up,” Lotor says, and it’s part accusing, part pouting.

He gasps again when Shiro sucks a mark at the base of his throat, the hand that migrated in his hair, pulling slightly, just like the one fisted in Lotor’s shirt does the same. Lotor’s thighs press into Keith’s, and he knows his lover’s looming over him, yet he can’t be bothered to open his eyes, letting his face express what Shiro’s making him feel.

“Was hun— _ngh_ —gry.”

At that, Shiro stops and when he opens his eyes to ask why, they’re sharing a look that tells Keith it’s a whole conversation he’s not privy to. He lifts an eyebrow at them because he doesn’t see why that’s so shocking.

It’s Shiro that grabs his chin and kisses him like it’s oxygen and he’s been lacking it for the past hour, and then it’s Lotor’s hand cupping him through the trousers and Keith moans into the kiss, hips pushing back for more friction. But it’s at this moment that he remembers that his day is still not over and he still has to meet with Acxa to devise another route for the oncoming ships to not have them clash with their fleet or the Murali.

“Nn-o. No. Wait. I can’t. No. Stop,” Keith mumbles, trying to get out from between them, but his lovers are nothing if not stubborn and their arms tighten around him, cutting every exit he can think of. “Please, I need to go meet Acxa. I can’t… I’m late!”

Lotor huffs. “He’s considering ditching us for Acxa.”

“It’s our fault,” Shiro says, and _sighs_ as if he’s exasperated and determined to accept his presupposed mistake at the same time. “We neglected him for too long.”

Lotor nods and Keith frowns, gaze darting between them.

“We made him think that we don’t care about him.”

“That he’s not loved the way he should be,” Shiro adds solemnly.

“Guys, I need to go. Please, let me…”

“There are no excuses for our behavior,” Shiro continues, his arms vices as Keith struggles to get out.

“There are not. We need to repent for how we acted. Remind him that he belongs to us.”

“And that we love him very much.” Shiro nods.

“Repent? What the hell? It’s just a meeting. I’m still yours. Look, I just need to meet with Acxa and talk about how to route the oncoming ships. That’s all. It’ll be over before you know it, and then I’ll be yours for the rest of the evening.”

Shiro huffs a chuckle. “He thinks he’s not ours right now.”

“What? I didn’t say that! Stop twisting my words!”

“And that we’re those perfect people who share what’s theirs,” Lotor says.

“Oh, no. We’ve never shared.”

“And what’s ours, stays ours.”

Keith is incinerated beneath Lotor’s gaze, and he forgets for a moment why he was struggling in the first place.

“No, no!” he says with newfound fervor. “Dammit, you two! Go repent by yourselves, but let me go!”

And just like that, both Shiro and Lotor break up and laugh, Lotor taking Keith into his arms just as Shiro releases him. Keith huffs, unable to not smile and hug Lotor back, placing a kiss in his hair.

“Okay, did you two get it out of your systems? Can I go now?”

Lotor’s arms tighten and for a second, Keith thinks he really won’t let him go, but then the arms go lax and Keith has to push himself away from him. With his hands on his hips he shakes his head at his lovers as Lotor pulls Shiro into his side, both of them grinning unrepentantly.

“You okay now?” he continues, the sarcasm dripping. “Did the teasing help?”

Lotor narrows his eyes, still grinning. “If you don’t run to Acxa right this instant, you won’t get out of this room for the next several hours.”

That has Keith straighten up and scurry towards the door, but halfway there he stops and half-turns back to consider them.

“For the record, it’s not true that you don’t share,” he can’t help but say. “You share me with each other.”

“That and sharing you with others are two very different things,” Shiro says.

Keith’s bionic eye catches the moment his gaze darkens considerably, not to mention that both of their stances become more pointed, as if preparing to pounce and yes, that’s Keith’s cue to see himself out before they make good on their promise.

“We’ll see you later, _kitten,”_ Lotor intones, the word reaching his ears like a caress, and Keith’s whole body freezes just as the door swishes open.

His gaze finds Shiro because no one is responsible for this but him. “Why did you teach him that?” Shiro’s grin only sharpens in response and Keith groans softly. “You two will be the death of me.”

“That’s my line,” Lotor says, and Keith can’t help the shit-eating grin that blooms on his face.

“Keith,”Shiro says. Why does it sound like lips lightly dragging down his neck? “If I touch you right now, I won’t let you go anymore.”

And that’s his cue to hightail it out of the room, not without feeling so light he could float towards Acxa, anticipation thrumming beneath his skin at how ready Shiro was to follow up on his warning. He shivers as he takes a corner, fighting with himself to not pop a boner that would not let down until certain hands and mouths are on him.

Acxa has to repeat herself too many times to be anything but mortifying for Keith.

 

***

Later comes too slow for Keith, his brain a pan of scrambled thoughts that gravitate towards one: his lovers and what those dark gazes were promising.

He’s barely inside the room when Shiro drags him to himself and kisses the day out of him. Lotor’s already in the ensuite bathroom, discarding his last piece of clothing when Shiro brings them in, he, too, half naked, Keith’s inner thighs pressing into Shiro’s sides. They both help Keith get rid of his clothes as he shares kisses with them both intermittently.

The wide, peanut-shaped tub in Lotor’s _(their)_ new home on Eskia allows for too much space between them, but this time Keith wants to watch, wants to see the two go at it like they always do. Maybe heighten the experience with the knowledge that Keith’s their audience.

Shiro cleans Lotor’s ass painstakingly slow, part for hygiene purposes and part to prepare Lotor. Their beloved emperor asked to be fucked. Keith’s painfully hard right now and he can’t help but stroke his length tantalizingly slow underwater. He doesn’t want to come just yet, but to enjoy the show.

Shiro’s sitting with his back against the rubbery part of the tub and Lotor’s straddling his hips, arched back to Shiro’s front. He’s slowly losing control, lewd moans spilling softly from his lips and hips undulating as if he’s savoring every second of this. Keith’s knees emerge just above the surface of the water to keep himself from going there and kiss his lovers breathless.

“You’re doing great,” Shiro murmurs, three fingers in Lotor’s ass already. “So gorgeous and pliant. You want to be fucked so much right now, hm?”

_“Please, please!”_

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Shiro continues. “You know how much I love it when you beg.”

Lotor moans louder when Shiro thrusts his fingers violently once. The cock ring prevents him from spilling himself, though he looks like he’d like nothing more than to do that.

_“Shiro — ah — please!”_

Keith has to squeeze the base of his own cock ruthlessly to not climax right there and then, unable to tear his gaze away from the debauched way Lotor’s moving up and down on Shiro’s fingers, Shiro’s metal arm on the opposite hip guiding him or just controlling how much Lotor can move— Keith’s not sure, but from his lover’s flushed cheeks and open mouth, Keith’s pretty sure he’s relishing the control Shiro exerts over him.

Then Shiro pulls up his knees which makes Lotor slide back towards Shiro’s groin and his hands emerge from the water on Shiro’s knees. At the same time, he pulls out his fingers to Lotor’s expressed discontent, but Shiro shushes him.

“I’m not finished,” he says, a growl catching at the end.

Keith bites his lower lip as he takes a moment to concentrate on his orgasm _not_ to wash over him. He opens his eyes just to see Shiro’s hand disappear between Lotor’s body and his knees and emerge with a black ring.

“Now I want you to climax just by pushing your ass along the length of my cock. No touching yourself.”

He places his elbows up on the edge of the tub and lets his feet slide a bit forward to have Lotor recline some more. The hunger in Shiro’s gaze as he looks down at Lotor’s ass is something that will keep Keith’s spanking bank running for the weeks to come.

Then he turns that dark gaze towards Keith.

“Up by the window,” he says, the commanding voice making Keith execute the order without question. He pushes himself up on the ledge, back pressed into the window. Now he’s closer to them and Lotor can see him without needing to turn his head. “I want to see you climax.”

That’s all he says as Lotor’s glazed eyes find Keith and then he starts stroking his ass against Shiro’s length, unabashed moans spilling from his mouth.

Keith hoists both legs on opposite edges, which gives Lotor and Shiro an unobstructed view of his cock and balls and ass. The idea of being this naked and vulnerable before his lovers has his cheeks burn and his head thud against the window as he takes himself in his hand and begins stroking lazily.

That’s not to say that he’s not desperate to get himself off, but that he wants to savor this. Tease himself just like the two pairs of eyes tease him; or like Lotor’s moans do. They changed in pitch as if he’s now moaning that wantonly on purpose. Shiro’s flesh hand flexes in tandem with Lotor’s up-and-down moves, closing over air and relaxing.

Once Keith imagines how Shiro’s cock would feel between Lotor’s cheeks, teasing continuously at his lose, slick hole, but never penetrating, he loses control over the speed of his hand and his breathing catches onto soft moans.

“Come on, Lotor,” Keith finds himself issuing the challenge before he realizes what he’s saying. “Is that all you can do?”

Lotor’s smirk is not as sharp as it usually is, but it’s there, accepting the challenge and speeding up his hips, going up until presumably part of Shiro’s head dips into Lotor’s hole and down enough so that Keith’s sure their balls press into each other.

“ _Shit,_ ” Shiro says, letting his head fall back as both his hands are clenched in tight fists.

He’s not sure who climaxes first between the three of them, but what Keith’s certain about is that he’s never been this turned on in his entire life. They sit there panting and coming down from the buzzing haze of their orgasm and then Shiro chuckles which prompts a chain reaction of chuckles like yawning does.

“C’mere,” Shiro says.

Keith does because he has no reason not to and because he’s getting cold. Lotor’s the first to pull him up into a lazy kiss to Shiro’s amused protest, but there are warm hands on his body and a wicked tongue in his mouth so there’s nothing to worry about.

It takes another several minutes for them to leave the bathtub since Shiro wants a piece of Keith, too, and they dissolve into silly giggles mid-kissing for some reason.

Lotor dries Keith because he can and wants to and because Keith lets him — not because the emperor doesn’t seem to be able to stop kissing Keith or Keith drinking Shiro’s warm chuckles like a parched man drinks water. No such thing.

“I want you two to fuck me,” Lotor says as Keith tumbles into the huge bed and rolls towards the middle utterly naked, Shiro following.

“We will,” Keith says.

“At the same time,” Lotor discloses, a serious expression on his face as he stands near the bed.

Kith’s breath catches in his throat in the form of a wounded sound as he stares up at Lotor, but it’s Shiro who pulls Lotor onto the bed to kiss him breathless, and just like that Keith’s half hard again.

“But are you sure?” Keith needs to ask.

Lotor breaks the kiss he took control of and looks at Keith over Shiro’s shoulder.

“Have I ever uttered things I did not mean?”

“I just don’t want you to hurt,” Keith says quietly, avoiding Lotor’s gaze.

Lotor crawls towards him, just as Shiro flanks him, and frames his face between his hands.

“You’re precious, you know that, kitten?” he says, leaning down a bit, and Keith feels his cheeks heat up just as his dick twitches. “But I assure you that it is not possible for you to hurt me. Not in the way you mean.”

Keith releases a shuddering breath and nods, then Lotor is kissing him and straddling his thighs and he only knows that Shiro left because there’s an absence of heat at his side. They both work Lotor open once Shiro returns with a bottle of transparent, odorless, liquid, bringing Lotor into a state Keith has never seen the Galra: begging and moaning as if that’s the only thing he knows how to do. Keith has to fight with himself not to climax by just watching the man writhe above his legs, Shiro kneeling at his back.

To heighten the experience, he grabs Lotor’s dick and squeezes the base even though he’s leaking profusely by now. Lotor releases a strangled sound and falls forward, pushing Keith flat on the mattress; the Galra has the presence of mind to stop himself in his forearms, hair falling down on one side, with a few locks on the other. Keith’s in a state of shock and wonder as he watches, wide-eyed, at how debauched his emperor looks, eyes half-lidded, panting and moaning in equal measure a few inches above Keith.

“You two okay?” Shiro half whispers, half pants, and Keith feels Lotor’s knees slide further apart as if to accommodate their fingers inside him better.

Lotor moans at that, neck stretching up as he closes his eyes and gasps, Keith momentarily floored by the image his lover makes.

“Yeah,” he croaks, unable to tear his eyes away from Lotor’s neck and chin, hand tightening over the base of his cock when Lotor starts thrusting up.

“‘Kay. Keith, we should change positions. Don’t think he’s gonna be able… to keep himself.”

Shiro pants, and Keith’s brain sort of understands what he means, but he cannot help himself from pushing his head up to kiss the skin right under Lotor’s collarbone, and then suck on it just to hear those gasps turn into moans and one hand coming up to cradle his head and keep him there.

It takes them a long time to change positions, leaving Lotor empty for a bit to his expressed displeasure. Once they’re settled in front and behind him, Keith doesn’t waste time and takes both himself and Shiro’s cock in his hand, using the hand he coated in lube to open Lotor up, and the pre-come from both of them to sluice themselves up. With the other hand currently on Lotor’s hip, he guides him forward a bit and then positions Shiro and himself at the opening.

He takes a breath, glancing up where both Shiro and Lotor’s gazes are on him, both flushed and sexed up, and Keith pushes in until their heads pass the rim, then he places his hand on Lotor’s hip and guides him down on them both.

A strangled cry ushers from Lotor’s lips just as Keith groans and Shiro curses, panting. The tightness is making Keith feel like he’s two seconds away from crawling out of his skin, the warmth enveloping, and he has to bend down and touch Lotor’s back with his forehead and just _breathe_ to not climax right then and there.

They bottom out an excruciatingly long time later, all three of them panting as if they’ve tried to reach the other end of the planet in a short amount of time.

He gives them time to get used to the sensation, then he starts pulling back, Lotor doing the same but upwards since Shiro is unable to move his hips much. They take a while to find a rhythm, and at first it’s slow and probing, but once Lotor pushes himself up to place his hands on Shiro’s chest, his hands on Lotor’s knees, the rhythm increases slowly.

Keith’s already lost in the sensation, his hips having a mind of their own as he clings to Lotor, until Lotor gyrates his hips and they all groan, Keith and Shiro’s body pulling taut, and then Keith ramming himself in without warning, which has Lotor almost topple over Shiro, if he didn’t lock his elbows to prevent that.

After that, both he and Shiro begin thrusting in earnest into Lotor as Lotor simply takes them both, pushing back whenever they push up. The slap of Keith’s groin against Lotor’s ass is obscene and all the more tantalizing every time it happens, not to mention the squelch that their semen alongside the lube make. It’s dirty and sweaty and no one cares one bit as their brains are on fire, chasing a pleasure that’s burning at the base of their spine.

He loses the rhythm at a certain point, and has to lean to one side and lock gazes with Shiro to find that rhythm again, and then they speed up, Lotor a moaning and gasping mess between them. The friction becomes unbearable, his own orgasm licking at his feet, coming in waves underneath his skin, and his hands might be forever buried into Lotor hips, keeping him there as they pound into their lover until they hit that bundle of nerves and Lotor cries out, spilling himself over Shiro’s metal arm, that, Keith’s sure, provided just that added bonus of teasing to have him come.

Keith’s thigh and stomach muscles burn from the strain; he loses rhythm with Shiro, but the alternate thrusts makes Keith close his eyes tight as they chase each other inside Lotor towards a climax that keeps eluding them. It’s only when Lotor tightens his inner walls that both of them gasp and come without warning.

He’s not sure what happens afterwards, just that he’s manhandled and cleaned up. It’s only when two walls of warmth flank him that he sighs and falls asleep.

He comes to in increments. First, he’s aware of soft breathing, then of soft breathing tickling the fine hairs on his neck. When he moves his head forward to escape that, he’s met with skin. He’s not sure what part it is, but at least he escaped the ticklish breathing. Still, sleep eludes him now because he’s too warm and he’s not sure where his legs are considering the fact that he doesn’t feel them and they don’t respond to his commands to move.

That only means that they’re so tangled together and for enough time that he lost connection to his legs. The price he has to pay to have these two men love him. A hard life indeed.

And then somebody’s arms tighten considerably and he gasps the air out only to have that someone huff a laugh and kiss his neck.

“Morning to you, too,” he grumbles, though without much heat.

“It’s night, actually,” Lotor says from the opposite side, voice sleep-riddled and Keith sighs, thinking that he can listen to that voice all night without tiring of it.

He nuzzles the shoulder his face is pressed into. “You two need to help me get my legs back. I can’t feel either.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” says Shiro and there’s movement, both of them probably disentangling and then he’s on his back, feeling the cold and then the needles.

He grimaces when he bends one just to feel the ticklish-hurt feeling. Lotor’s sprawled on his side, facing Keith, one hand caressing his stomach, just as Shiro’s at his back, peppering his neck and shoulder with kisses. All in all, he’s a melting puddle of goo under their loving ministrations and it’s such a fulfilling feeling that he sighs and closes his eyes and takes Shiro’s hand to twine their fingers.

“I can get used to this,” he finds himself murmuring.

Lotor huffs, the puff of breath fanning over Keith’s chin, which has him open his eyes a slit only to meet Lotor’s fond gaze.

“I take personal offense that you didn’t get used to this already.”

The hand that had been on his stomach is now caressing his cheek, Lotor’s hair tickling the other cheek.

“Well, I don’t want to take you two for granted,” he says and Shiro presses more into his back, arm tightening over his midriff. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispers, averting his eyes.

“Hey, no.” Shiro pushes himself up, pulling Keith on his back. “No thinking like that. We’re here, and we’ll stay by your side no matter what.”

Keith’s lips crest into a fond smile, and Shiro narrows down his eyes at him, not buying it, but doesn’t comment on it, electing to place his head on Keith’s chest. Lotor kisses his cheek, and everything is right again.

He gives the speech only because Lotor and Shiro are on his case the whole week, mostly bribing him with mind-blowing sex and a lot of attention (which continues after the speech, Lotor going down on him while Shiro eats him, and he’s pretty sure he fried several brain cells when he came), but also making a strong case on why he really should talk to a galaxy of strangers. He manages not to get them into another war and people cheer at the end of his speech.

He’s— surprisingly pleased with himself and confesses to his lovers that he’s open to do that again in the future, to which Lotor and Shiro respond by first cuddling the shit out of him, and then showering him with so much affection that he ends up begging them to fuck him hard.

Hunk stays for the inauguration ceremony and then heads back to Earth with his team, escorted by Zethrid and Narti. Keith talked with the leader overseeing the mission and Iverson, both accepting his decision to stay on Eskia indefinitely with reluctance.

When he and Hunk part, Keith tells him that he should stay with him because his companionship is something that Keith doesn’t want to part with so soon, and Hunk promises that he’ll come visit— him and the others — because he’s been told by Zethrid that they won’t return without him. Rosy cheeks is a good look on Hunk; it makes him all the more adorable, and Keith drags him into another bone-crushing hug because he’s going to miss him and because he can.

He cries quietly into Lotor’s chest when they’re alone. Shiro takes him and carries him to the plush couch they installed in front of the windows and offers him comfort until he’s spent and dozing off on Shiro.

“I knew you were a capable leader,” Lotor says later, arms splayed comfortably on the back of the couch, looking so smug that Keith has a hard time deciding if he wants to bite into the grape-shaped fruit or kiss the living daylights out of his pompous lover.

“Oh yeah?” Keith challenges, a smirk in the corner of his lips. “What gave it away?”

Lotor picks up a black and green fruit and bites into it. It’s the bitter one that Keith stays away from.

“I’m good at reading people,” Lotor says airily.

Shiro chuckles, thigh glued to Keith’s, metal arm keeping him close. “What he means is that he’s been smitten with you since the Syca war.”

Lotor throws a grape at Shiro, which Shiro deflects easily, regaling the emperor with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh, this is the first I’m hearing,” Keith says, a lilt in his voice. “Do continue. You said he was smitten? I didn’t see that.”

“He’s good at masking his emotions. He saw in you potential for greatness and ever since you came on our ship, he’s been doing everything he could to make you see that.”

Keith’s features melt into fondness as he looks at a disgruntled Lotor. “I love you, too.”

But he doesn’t get to bite from the grape as Lotor grabs his hips and drags him down into a tickle war from which Keith emerges with flushed cheeks and heavy breathing. It feels so good to be carefree and happy, to feel the love they both have for him and feeling the same about them.

He asks nothing more from himself or from life. This is where he stops and where he starts building his future, alongside the emperor to the known universe and his right hand — his soulmates.

 

 **—** **End Part III —**

**~ The End ~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't think I'd ever write double penetration, but here we are. Hope you enjoyed this fic (currently the longest I've ever written, WIP or not, posted or not).


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